#or how often i hide myself in fiction these days

[novelconcepts]

Sometimes I think I have no right to be this tired. Then I remember I

lost my job of ten years

had my first major surgery which, while the result was wonderful, took almost two months to heal from

hit the worst extended depressive low of my life, prompting me to

finally start medication for the first time, with all its gloriously unpleasant side effects

replaced the house’s sewer liner/furnace/AC unit/water heater/roof/garage roof

had a pipe burst (really FOUR pipes burst in four separate corners of one room) (on Christmas morning!), requiring a full renovation of three rooms, and leading us to

live with my parents for the first time since my early 20s (bless them, but it is a bit of an adjustment)

expected to lose my grandmother, prompting me to grieve her before she made a miraculous turnaround and

actually lost my grandfather, which in turn makes us worry all over again about said grandmother’s future

all within the last ten months.

And then I think. Yeah. Maybe the tired makes a wee bit of sense.

[strangelittlestories]

There’s a larp (live action roleplaying) game that I play, where there exists a creature we have dubbed a ‘Chronovore’.

This planet-sized sci-fi beastie eats time via a cool-ass external digestive system that ranges out from its main corpus (what are effectively its digestive enzymes look like glowing blue-winged angels, which are creepy as sin).

My character in this game fell victim to said chronovoric digestion and was aged 30 years by the experience. They lost what they expected to be the most valuable years of their life - the time when they expected to most make a difference to the universe.

I have a lot of emotions about this. Especially because when I look at my life aged 39 and consider the shape I am trying to hammer it into, one thought keeps recurring: I wish I had started this work sooner.

And then I consider my ADHD (a condition I am really certain I have, but am still seeking diagnosis for) and damn if I do not feel like it straight up ate decades of my life.

That’s how it feels, gang. There’s this bubbling resentful rage and grief for years spent with an invisible wall between me and what I wanted. For the nights where I spent (and still spend) revenge procrastinating and wrecking my days. For all the hours chasing short-term dopamine that was often destructive for me.

Hours. Days. Years. Eaten by a part of me that often feels like a monster squatting in my brain, hiding in my bones.

It reminds me, too, of that scene from a Hammer Horror movie where a monster expert is talking about vampires and says something like “Oh, you still think vamps are just things with big teeth that gotta bite your neck and drink your blood? Sweet baby, there’s all kinds of these creatures; some of them just fully suck your life straight out of your soul.”

This is why I don’t think I’ll ever think of my ADHD as a superpower. Or, at least, if it is: it’s from one of those gritty think piece superhero stories where your power is also a hecking curse.

I am preoccupied by what my own brain has taken from me.

And the thing is: it’s not really true. At least, not all the way true.

Those years I think of as lost were filled with good times. I made meaningful connections. I wrote poems and stories that I love. I performed art that meant something to me in front of people who enjoyed it. I consumed a lot of good media. I learned and dreamed and tried really hard to be a person I could be happy being.

But I also let a lot of the things fall into the background. I started a lot, but didn’t finish a lot. I missed the chance to work on skills that are now harder to learn because I’m older.

So I find myself cursing the Chronovore.

I nearly wrote this as a piece of fiction. If I had, I would probably have ended with the protagonist finding a way to subvert or redeem or work with the Chronovore.

Maybe the satisfying ending just this: none of us get as much time as we want. We all give time away - whether it be taxed by things we resent or gifted to what is important.

The Chronovore is not special.

And if it is not special, then it is mutable.

Maybe that is enough.

[maddyjones2]

On not idolising creative people

In the wake of the various recent allegations involving Neil Gaiman, people have been both very sad that someone who they looked up to as an inspiration has, allegedly, turned out to be something less than entirely admirable, and are now looking to see who is now left that they can rotate into the spot of “the good dude,” i.e., that one successful creative guy who they think or at least hope isn’t hiding a cellar full of awful actions. One name I see brought up is mine, in ways ranging from “Well, at least we still have Scalzi,” to “Oh, God, please don’t let Scalzi be a fucking creep too.” Which, uhhhh, yeah? Thanks?

I have many thoughts about this and I’m going to try to make sense of them here, as much for myself as anyone else, so this may be messy and discursive and long (seriously, 3600 words, y’all), but, well, welcome to me. So, ordered by how these things come out of my head:

1. Stop Idolizing Creative People. Creative people are easy to idolize because they create the art you love, and that gives you permission to feel things, and to see yourself and your desires reflected in that art. That is a powerful thing, and from the outside, it can feel like magic, and that the people who do it are tapped into something otherworldly and admirable. Plus, they often get to have cool lives and get to know other cool creative people. They do things that are removed from the day-to-day aspect of a “normal” life, and they’ll even post about them on social media where you can see them. Sometimes, independent of their art directly, they’ll speak about their life, or life in general, and they’ll seem wise and considered and kind. I mean, what’s not to like?

But please consider that this is all an extremely mediated experience of this person. The art is the edited and massaged result of hours and days and weeks and months of work, into which the work of many others is also added. My novels originate from me, but it’s not just me in there, nor is the final form of the novel an accurate statement of who I am as a person, not least of all for the simple reason that I am not trying to tell my story in my novels. I’m creating fictional characters, and the world in which they make sense, for the purpose of the story.

Despite how it might look from the outside, this is not sorcery. It’s years of experience at a craft. It’s not magic, just work. A completed novel (or any other piece of art) won’t tell you much about the specific, day-to-day life and inclinations of the individual who made it, other than a general nod toward their competence, and the competence of their collaborators. Likewise what you see of their lives, even from the illusorily close vantage of social media, is deeply mediated. Lives always look admirable at a distance, when you can only see the lofty peaks and not the rubble at the base — especially when your attention by design is pointed at those lofty peaks. There’s much you don’t see and that you’re not meant to see. The vast majority of what you’re not meant to see isn’t nefarious. It’s just not your business.

Now, before I was a professional creative person, I was an entertainment journalist who spent years interviewing writers, directors, movie stars, musicians, authors and other creative folks. Since I’ve been on the other side of the rope, I’ve likewise met a huge range of creative people from all walks of life. Please believe me when I assure you that creative people are just people. Richer and/or more famous? Sometimes (less often than you might think, though). Prettier and/or more charismatic? Especially if they’re actors or pop stars, often yes! But at the end of the day they are just folks, and they run the whole range of how people are. By and large, the day-to-day experience of getting through their life is the same as yours. Outside of their own specific field of work, they don’t know any more about life, have no more facility for dealing with the world, and have just as few clues about what’s going on in their own head, as anyone else.

They’re just people. Whose work is making the stuff you like! And that’s great, but that’s not a substantive basis for idolizing them. It makes no more sense to idolize them than to idolize a baker who makes cookies you like, or the guy who comes and trims your hedges the way you want them to be trimmed, or the plumber who fixes your clogged drain. You can appreciate what they do, and even admire they skill they have. But holding them up as a life model might be a bit much. Which is the point! If you’re not willing to idolize a plumber, then you shouldn’t idolize a creative person.

(“But a plumber doesn’t make me feel like a creative person does,” you say, to which I say, are you sure about that? Because I will tell you what, when my sump pump stopped working and the plumber got in there, replaced the pump and started draining out my basement which had an inch of standing water in it, that man was the focus of all my emotions and was my goddamned hero that day. My plumber that day did more for me than easily 90% of the great art I’ve ever experienced.)

Enjoy the art creative people do. Enjoy the experience of them in the mediated version of them you get online and elsewhere, if such is your joy. But remember that the art is from the artist, not the artist themselves, and the version of their life you see is usually just the version they choose to show. There is so much you don’t see, and so much you’re not meant to see. At the end of the day, you don’t have all the information about who they are that you would need to make them your idol, or someone you might choose to, in some significant way, pattern some fraction of your life on. And anyway creative people aren’t any better at life than anyone else.

Which brings up the next point:

2. Fuck idols anyway! People are complicated and contradictory and you don’t know everything about them! You don’t know everything even about your parents or siblings or best friends or your partner! People are hypocrites and liars and fail to live up to their own standards for themselves, much less yours! Your version of them in your head will always be different than the version that actually exists in the world! Because you’re not them! Stop pretending people won’t be fuck ups! They will! Always!

This sounds more pessimistic about humans than perhaps it should be. When I say, for example, that people are hypocrites and liars, I don’t mean that people take every single opportunity to be hypocrites and liars. Most people are decent in the moment. But none of us — not one! — has always lived up to our own standard of behavior, and all of us have had the moment where, when confronted with a situation that would become an immense pain in the ass if we stuck to our guns, or demanded the inconvenient truth, decided to just bail instead, because the situation wasn’t worth the drama, or we had somewhere else to be, or whatever. We all choose battles and we all make the call in the moment, and sometimes the call is, fuck this, I’m out.

Every person you’ve ever admired has fucked up, sometimes really badly. Everyone you’ve ever looked up to has secrets, and it’s possible some of those secrets would materially change how you think about them, not always for the better. Everyone you’ve ever known has things about them you don’t know, many of which aren’t even secrets, they’re just things you don’t engage with in your day-to-day experience of them. Nevertheless it’s possible if you were aware of them, it would change how you feel about them, for better or for worse. And now let’s flip that around! You have things about you that even your best friends don’t know, and might be surprised to learn! You have secrets you don’t wish to share with the class! You have fucked up, and lied, and have been a hypocrite too!

You are, in short, a human, as is everyone you know and every one you will know (pets and gregarious wild animals excepted). And all humans are, charitably, a mess. This doesn’t mean there aren’t good people or even exemplary people out there, since there are, along with the ones that are, charitably, a real shit show. What I am saying is that even the good or exemplary people out there are a mess, have been morally compromised at some point in their lives, and have not lived up to their own standards for themselves, independent of anyone else’s standard for them.

One of the aspects of being an “idol,” I think, is that higher standard that other people expect of you — that in every situation where the aspect they idolize you for is in play, you will act in a manner that is right and correct by their standard, which of course you will likely not know about because you don’t actually know them (or often know that they exist). This is, by definition, an impossible standard to be held to — you didn’t agree to it, or to engage with it — and an impossible standard to hold other people to without their direct consultation. Every human made to be an idol is destined to fail at the job. You don’t even have to have feet of clay! You just didn’t know you were on a pedestal to begin with.

(This does not excuse shitty action. The fact people should not be idols in the first place is not exculpatory for the choices one makes on one’s own. If you’re sexually assaulting people, or being a racist or sexist or homophobe or other flavor of bigot, or using your situational power coercively (as just a few examples), then hell yes you are going to be called out on it. And to be clear, it is not unreasonable, to put it mildly, to expect people not to sexually assault other people, or not to denigrate other humans for being who they are, etc. But this only adds to the point about idols, now, doesn’t it. You don’t know what you don’t see, and you don’t know what you’re not seeing, until it is hauled out into the light one way or the other. If it is hauled out into the light at all.)

I don’t think anyone should idolize anyone, ever. It’s not great for them, and it’s not great for you, they probably didn’t ask to be idolized (and if they did, holy shit, fucking run), and in the end unless you’re so completely wrapped up in their lives that they have no secrets from you — which is never — you don’t know enough to make that call. People do it anyway, and then disappointment happens, but they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Stop idolizing people. It’s not fair for anyone.

What to do instead? Enjoy their work, if they’re a creative person. Appreciate the kind and good aspects of their life that you can see, and the decent actions they undertake in public, with the knowledge that what you see of them is a mediated and elided version. Understand that we all have a different version of ourself for every person we meet, and that every person we meet has a different vision of ourselves in their head, and very often, those two versions are not the same. Like them, based on what you know of them! Love them, if it comes to that. And when and if you learn something new about them that you didn’t know before, let empathy guide you to a new understanding of them and what they mean to you.

And now, taking all of the above into consideration:

3. Absolutely 100% do not idolize me. I don’t deserve to be idolized because no one deserves to be idolized, but also, holy fuck, I do know me and I’m a mess. There have been lots of things in my life that I’ve done that have not been admirable or kind. I can be petty and shitty and competitive and cruel. I am lazy and inattentive and when I let things slide (which is often), I end up jammed up on my responsibilities, which makes me irritable and no fun to be around. I have a temper which goes from zero to sixty almost instantaneously; if I’m not actively paying attention to it, I can become a sudden, unreasonable rage monster, which is a burden to people I love, and I hate that fact about myself (pro tip: don’t travel with me, the rage monster comes out a lot then).

I can be controlling and demanding but I want other people to handle the details, i.e., executive asshole. I am strategic in a way that can be bloodless. When I’m insecure I brag a lot, which is unflattering. If you cross me, I won’t go out of my way to make your life miserable (that would require effort on my part), but I will absolutely enjoy when you take a literal or metaphorical tumble down the stairs. God knows I’ve enjoyed the failures of the people who have spoken ill of me, almost as much as I’ve enjoyed the fuming, spittling rage they’ve felt when I’ve succeeded. I spent years cultivating a snarky persona online and while that was fun (for me), I’m increasingly aware that when the tally is added up for Who Ruined the Internet, I’m not necessarily going to be where I want to be on that particular ledger.

And these are only the bad qualities of mine I wish to admit to you at the moment. There are others, I assure you.

So, yes: Who wants to idolize me now?

“But you seemed so nice when I chatted with you online/met you at the convention/saw you at that one place that one time.” Well, thank you, I’ve been in the public eye in one manner or another for three and a half decades now and I understand my assignment; my public persona is friendly and engaging and sociable and mostly fun to be with. It’s not a fake version of me — I am all those things! Honest! — but, again, it’s a mediated version of me designed not only to be a positive experience for the people who meet me but also to get my actually introverted ass through a whole day of events at a convention/festival/book tour/whatever. When I’m done I collapse into an introverted hole. When I came back from Worldcon this week, I slept for 15 hours the first day I was home. It wasn’t just because of jet lag or con crud.

I rather famously call my public face “performance monkey mode,” and likewise what I say about my (current) online mode is that I’m cosplaying as a better version of myself, one that is kinder than I used to be online, and more patient than I am in the real world. If you meet me when I am “off” then you will find that, again, these versions of me are me, just with some things dialed up and other things dialed down. But even that is still a different version of me than, say, the version of me which is at home (which is in fact extremely boring; that version of me doesn’t talk much and mostly stays in my office).

Many of you who have followed me over the years are familiar with me saying things like this, of course, and are likewise familiar with me pointing out that there are a number of things about my life that I don’t mention in public, for whatever reasons I choose. But it’s also true that I’ve been actively online for 30+ years now, and people feel reasonably confident that they have a good bead on me and that there’s not much about me that will surprise them or change their understanding of me. So to bring home the point there are indeed things you don’t know, allow me to surface just one previously unaired fun fact:

I have a concealed carry license.

(Or did; it expired this year and I didn’t renew it, because Ohio changed its laws so that you no longer need a permit to conceal carry in the state. These days in Ohio you can just wander about with a handgun stuffed down your trousers without training or licensing because that’s a real good idea, now, isn’t it. Nevertheless, the license is not necessary anymore so there was not much point in renewing it, although if the law had not changed, I probably would have renewed.)

Why did I have a concealed carry license? Well, ultimately that’s not important. The point is I had one. I didn’t talk about it before because, among other things, the point of a concealed carry license (to me, anyway) is that its existence is not meant to be known by anyone other than that great state of Ohio itself. I am aware, and this is a dramatic understatement, that I am not a person most people would expect to have had such a thing. That the fact I had one will cause a number of people to reconsider what they know about me, for better or for worse. Which is also my point. All y’all have just learned this thing about me! Think about all the other things you don’t know!

Oh, God, this is where Scalzi starts admitting to terrible, terrible things. No. I feel pretty confident I live a tolerably ethical life. Part of the reason for this is that I have what I think is a decent operating principle, which is: If I’m thinking of doing something, and Krissy called me right then and asked “what are you doing?” and I would be tempted to lie to her about it, then I don’t do that thing. Because Krissy is the most important person in my life, and I don’t want to lie to her about what I’m doing (I have lied to her exactly once. She knew instantly. I haven’t bothered lying to her since). This is not replacing Krissy’s ethics with my own; it’s me knowing whether by my own ethics, I would be ashamed to tell to her what I am up to. It works very well. As such, the Krissy Test is an operating principle I highly suggest to others, although I’d suggest replacing Krissy with whomever your life is most important to you.

Be that as it may, my ethics are not universal and some others might not find them sufficient, for whatever reason. I am well aware I still disappoint many people, and that there are people who find my life choices, known positions or public statements (or lack of them, as the case may be) problematic, or who simply wish I would be other than what I am. I can’t help them with this, but again, this is the point. Given the fact that I am a fallible human who has an entire stratum of his life not visible to the world — and the strata of his life that are visible cause significant numbers of people to be irritated and exasperated — is it not better just to not hold me up as an ideal person, or the “good dude,” much less an idol of any sort?

I mean, shit. What Would John Scalzi Do? Solidly half the time, I have no fucking idea. I have to think about it, whatever it is. I have to think about whether I know enough to do or say something about it. I have to decide whether it’s something I want to engage with at all, and whether my engagement with it is something that would be of value to anyone, me included. I have to decide whether engaging with it is worth the shit I will get for it. And then I have to figure out what it means that I am engaging with it, since like it or not I’m a Dude of Reasonable Significance in My Field. I try to be a decent human, when people are looking at me and especially when they are not. But I also know me, and all my flaws and weaknesses and compromises.

What Would John Scalzi Do? The best he can, in the moment. Is that sufficient? For me, yes, most of the time. Is that sufficient for you? That’s up to you.

The point to this all is that people are just a big fucking mess, including the ones you might for whatever reason find admirable. I am no different than anyone else, and you should not be under the illusion that I am anything other than a shambling collection of flaws embedded inside a human form, which also, in its defense, has some pretty excellent qualities as well. We’re all this way! You too!

And while I want you to like my work, and to enjoy the version of me that you see here and elsewhere, don’t put me, or any other person, on a pedestal. Pedestals are wobbly and and don’t give actual humans a lot of room to move. We will inevitably fall off. Keep us with our feet on the ground. That way, when we stumble, there’s a chance we can get back up, and keep going.

— JS

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

Mirror: The Fiction and Essays of Kōda Aya translated by Ann Sherif

The papers in those days always had some amazing news in them - from the attempted military coup of February the year before to the start of fighting in China just three months later. A ferocious gale had come sweeping through, causing small whirlwinds some days and, at other times, a tremendous commotion that stirred up everything, even the dust in the forgotten corners of the world. I was just a speck of dust in one of the narrowest, most remote niches. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

A kimono worn by a woman immature in her emotions can be a powerful thing. Or, to put it another way, clothes have the strength to control one's psyche. To me, the striped outfit was a uniform; it gave me a sense of direction and a feeling of pride in my work. The apron shielded me from all arrows; it acted as a cast to brace me against all blows. It was a metal fire door behind which I could hide the anguish of my heart. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

What other child would fail to rise to the occasion when her father was being so honored? He was my only father, and I his only child. Is this any way to behave? I had lost my way at the bottom of a deep abyss. I cast my eyes upward, toward my father, only to see him dimly shrouded by mist. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

I know nothing about the breadth of my father's learning, nor do I pretend to understand the scope of his art. I could not tell you what came to him as a matter of luck, what he accomplished through his own talents, nor about his stature among men. Though I may be vastly ignorant, I do have enough sense not to entertain the foolish notion that he is some kind of lion of literature, a king among writers. He was just my father. From my own biased viewpoint, I would say that Father possessed some lionlike qualities, but there were those of a lion who would finish you off or give you the push-off-the-cliff test. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

Father was an unusual man. He would point out the beauty of blossoms or clouds in the sky with the very whip he had cracked a moment before. With the same knife he had just used to rive your innards, he would slice up a wedge of some delicacy for you. No one else I knew could perform such feats. There was something solid about him. I felt all at once like a contrite sinner and a puppy dog who is eager to please. I wanted to cut all ties with him, but at the same time I needed him to recognize me as worthy of his love. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

Higuchi Ichiyo's nephew Higuchi Etsu once said about [me and my father]: "The parent dons a medal, and the child an apron." I made a show of laughing at his comment, but only because I wanted to hide my weakness. In fact, that apron chafed against my hands and my heart with its unyielding roughness. - Kōda Aya, "The Medal"

One often hears about the magical powers of mirrors. Certainly the mirror's ability to reflect creates this feeling of mystery. The objects around the viewer look so different in the mirror - what was one may multiply into two or even three. Objects that had appeared to be piled up come apart. Something might look real in the mirror, but then when you try to touch it, you can't. It seems to be there but it makes no sound. Is it real or just an illusion? Sometimes you can see through things in a mirror. Some things seem actually to be alive inside the mirror, but once the reflection stops moving, the illusion of life is gone. The mirror's power resides in this ability to confound. - Kōda Aya, "A Friend for Life"

My life was not going smoothly. I could not handle the problems that confronted me and became unbelievably nervous and stubborn. At times, any little thing would set me off in a rage; often I would get upset and break down in tears. I had so many things on my mind. In those days I consoled myself by leaning up against my mirror. To think how proud I had felt of it on my wedding day. Now all I could do was crouch up against it and sigh. In that house it was the only place where I felt calm. The mirror served more as a support for my emotions than as a glass in which I could see my reflection. The sunny location I had chosen for it had been part of my effort to avoid sadness and gloom in my life, but ironically it ended up lodging a darkened, tired soul. I did, in any case, feel most peaceful when I sat by my mirror. - Kōda Aya, "A Friend for Life"

The first time I wiped the glass, I was shocked to discover how dirty a mirror can become. One usually does not notice the dust; a mirror will reflect even when covered with a heavy layer of grime. And once you get used to this, you may end up looking at yourself and trying to make yourself presentable with powder and lipstick, unaware that you are seeing yourself through a haze. But who bothers to dust mirrors? If even smoothly polished glass attracts dust how much more would accumulate on a troubled heart? - Kōda Aya, "A Friend for Life"

Kōda Aya has also been added to the BSD-Bibliophile Online Library!

You can find more information about Kōda Aya-sensei on the following pages:

List of Books in English Quotes and Facts Collection Fun Facts

[tlbodine]

Characters care about external stakes. READERS care about internal stakes.

OK. Here's a distinction I've recently started to think about and really notice after reading and watching some things that handle this poorly.

Fiction needs stakes, right? We all agree on that?

Characters have to be doing something, and they need some reason to do things, and there has to be some kind of reward for succeeding or consequence if they fail, yeah?

Cool. So here's the thing about stakes. They can be internal or external.

External stakes are things like: "if we don't do this, the sun will explode" or "if we do this, we'll win the game."

Often, to make things more interesting, external stakes have a ticking clock attached to them. You have to complete your quest before the next full moon or else the spell won't work for another hundred years. You have to score the winning point before the buzzer goes off in five seconds. That tension is important to shuffling the story forward.

But here's the thing.

The reader doesn't give a fuck about the external stakes and the ticking clock. We know perfectly well they're not going to miss the window for the spell or fuck up the finals game. We understand how stories work and how genre conventions work and you're not impressing anyone with your ticking clock.

What readers do actually care about is a character's internal stakes.

Internal stakes are things like "if I can save the world, I can finally absolve myself of guilt for letting my mom die." Or "if I win this game, my crush will finally notice me."

They are personal motivations. They are the reason why your character cares about what they're doing. They are why we care and how we get invested in their story.

Because like. We're humans. At the end of the day, we care about human things and we have human emotions and we relate to people -- even fake people made of scribbles on paper -- who care about stuff the way we care about stuff.

Raising the stakes doesn't mean "make the sun explode if they fail." Raising the stakes means "we care about this person and want to see them succeed."

So why bother with the external conflict and the ticking time clock? If what we actually care about in a story is the person, why can't we just read a couple hundred pages of the character going through therapy and working through their trauma?

Because what that ticking time clock does is it forces a character to act before they're ready. It prevents them from procrastinating. And it makes them do stuff they're not prepared for. And it's thrilling to see them interact with stuff that way, because it forces them out of their comfort zone and into an area where they can grow and challenge their status quo...which is the thing that pushes on those internal conflict bruises.

Imagine that our heroes have as much time as they need to fulfill the prophecy. They can take their time training, studying, making failsafes and backup plans and then go and the plan goes off without a hitch and they save the day without breaking a sweat. That's boring! That's just people going to work. That doesn't force them to confront their inner demons at all! That doesn't rip them from their existing environment and leave them struggling to adapt to new circumstances!

So those external stakes are necessary to keep the plot rolling forward and put pressure on the characters. But ALL OF THAT is only important if that pressure reveals interesting things about those characters, and forces them to engage with the stuff deep inside that they're probably hiding from. Because that's the part that's juicy and interesting for the reader.

Capiche?

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape - Epilogue // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Smut 18+ MINORS DNI, Alcohol Consumption, Swearing, Light Angst, Not Edited

Word Count: 9.4k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: Alas, here is the long awaited Epilogue. Thank you everyone for being patient with me, this became a bit of its own story and I had to stop myself from continuing (read my note at the end and let me know your opinions, I won't ask here as to not spoil anything.) I have loved writing this and I can't wait to continue this little journey with all of you wonderful babes. Thank you so much for all the love on this story, I'm glad you all seem to love it as much as I do!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

Colorado was one of your favorite places to be with Lewis, especially when it was just the two of you. You spent so much of your relationship flying around the world and stealing moments to be alone together. It could be difficult at times, especially race weekends. Lewis had a tendency to become a different version of himself from the first step into the paddock on Thursday to the second he left on Sunday evening, there was a hard shell around him most of the time, determined and focused. It was never a bad thing, simply something to navigate. He always found ways to make sure you knew how grateful for you he was, even in the simplest ways. When you would both arrive in Colorado, tucked away in the mountains, every guard he had built would come down, it’s when you got the utmost access to the love of your life. That's why you were shocked when he had sent you your travel plans for the week. You had talked with him multiple times about meeting him in Colorado for his time off, spending time just the two of you after too long being apart. Without consulting you he had changed your plans, scheduling another family trip, another trip to the Caribbean. You hadn’t been back to the island since the beginning of your relationship, almost exactly a year ago. Your anniversary would be coming up in the next week and you wanted to spend it with him, however life and work got in the way, forcing you to be apart from him for an already two week stretch. That is why Colorado had been the perfect plan, just the two of you only a few days after your anniversary, now you would be with all your friends in a place you had many mixed emotions about. You understood that he didn’t have the same opportunities to see everyone, rarely being in town for parties and dinners, but selfishly you truly didn’t want to share him. 

The second you received the surprise email with your travel itinerary you were on the phone. It only rang once before he picked up.

“Hey baby, I’ve only got a second. What's up?” He sounded out of breath through the line and you wondered if you had interrupted his training, not that you cared at the moment.

“We’re going to the island?” You got straight to the point.

“Yeah, I mean I bought the house, we might as well use it.” He chuckled, ignoring the fact that your plans had been drastically changed. 

“I know that, but I thought we had plans.” Your voice came out whinier than you had meant it to, unable to hide your disappointment.

“Yeah, shit, I’m sorry babe. I meant to talk to you about it but Charlotte and Miles were on my ass about another family trip and I just scheduled everything for the next second I had off.” He tried to reason, not helping your disappointment. It was strange for him to not consult you about plans he was making, more often than not he would check in with you more than necessary. 

“I know you want to see everybody but I wanted to spend time with you, celebrate our anniversary together.” You knew you were fighting a losing battle, everything was set in stone and he wouldn't disappoint your friends.

“We’ll still be together sweetie, we’ll have more than enough time to celebrate our anniversary, I promise.” His words were soft and you could tell he was trying to end the conversation. There was no point in continuing the argument.

“I know, I know, I just miss you.” You conceded.

“I miss you too, more than you know, but in just over a week I’m all yours. Gonna give you the biggest fucking hug.” He sighed, also feeling the effects of not being together.

‘You’re not going to be all mine, that's the problem’ you thought to yourself, deciding not to say anything, it wouldn’t help the situation in any way.

Before you could respond he was already saying his goodbyes, “I gotta go, m’sorry, but I’ll call you later and I’ll see you soon. I love you sweetheart.”

“I love you Lew.” You said solemnly, wishing for just a few more moments with him, even if over the phone.

…

The next week and a half dragged on for what felt like a year, communication from him was slim, even on your anniversary. He had messaged you a picture of the two of you from a few months ago, it was a selfie taken in some random hotel overseas, you were pressed up against him with your face in his neck, a massive smile across both of your faces. His message had been simple and cheeky “Thank you for giving me a chance and putting up with me for a whole ass year, I love you more than I could ever let you know xx.” When you messaged him back it had gone unanswered. You couldn’t understand what was going on with him, his lack of communication was incredibly out of character and it was starting to irritate you.

By the time that you arrived at the large vacation house, your mood was sour. Your flight was long and lonely, your friends flying out at different times and from different places. When you arrived everyone was already there. You were irritated with Lewis and his lack of communication and care for the wrench in your plans. Seeing the house again as you pulled into the driveway brought very mixed emotions, on one hand it was the place you finally found the love of your life, on the other it was the place where you spent a week fighting with your best friend and thinking that you had lost him. When you stepped out of the car, Lewis was already there waiting for you, a big smile on his face and open arms ready for you.

“Well hello there pretty lady.” He said, engulfing you in a hug before you even had the chance to close the car door.

It was hard to stay mad at him as he wrapped himself around you, his embrace feeling like coming home. He buried his face into your neck as he squeezed you so hard you thought you were going to burst.

“Hi.” You answered softly, taking in his familiar scent.

When he finally pulled away he didn’t go far, his large palms coming up to cradle your cheeks. His smile was so big it looked like his face would split in two.

“God I fucking missed you.” He sighed before pulling you in for a heavy kiss. It was like he was trying to pour every kiss you would have received in the last few weeks into one.

You're not sure how long you stood there kissing him, enjoying being with your partner after way too long. It wasn’t until you heard a gagging sound from behind you that you pulled away from him.

“Jesus, I’m all for you two being in love and shit but damn, I don’t need to see all that.” Miles complained from behind you while grabbing your bags.

“Oh fuck off, I haven’t seen my girl in two weeks, I’ve got shit to make up for.” Lewis laughed, his hand coming down to firmly grab your ass.

“Two weeks? I ain’t seen you in two months, where the hell is my kiss?” Miles continued in a jokingly distraught voice.

“Come and get it.” Lewis teased him, puckering his lips like a child, still not letting go of you.

“I’d rather kiss a frog,” Miles deadpanned, “now let go of Y/N so I can give her a hug.”

Lewis very reluctantly parted from you, not going far as Miles wrapped his broad frame around you, squeezing you tight with a kiss to your head that made you giggle. The second Miles let you go, Lewis was already grabbing your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and giving it a squeeze. When you turned to look at him he was already staring at you, a soft smile on his face and a look in his eyes you couldn’t quite place. You gave him a questioning look but all he did was shake his head and lean down to peck your lips quickly before ushering you into the house after Miles.

‘Well look who’s finally here!” Charlotte's voice came through the kitchen loudly the moment she saw you.

It only took a few seconds before you were wrapped in yet another tight hug, as if you hadn’t seen her only a week ago. You two had gotten lunch shortly after Lewis had changed your plans, and while you didn’t want to complain to her, you did try to get any information possible as to why Lewis had been acting so strange. She hadn’t said much, simply brushing it off by saying he must be busier than usual, but you could tell she knew something else and it had been eating away at you.

After saying your hellos to everyone you found a moment to quietly excuse yourself from the kitchen, heading down the hall to the room Lewis had stayed in last time, the room you had ended up moving into the night you finally got together. When you got to the doorway you paused, seeing unfamiliar luggage in the room. You had traveled with Lewis enough at this point to pick his luggage out from the most packed carousel in the world, and his was nowhere to be seen, neither was yours. As you stood there confused, a pair of strong arms came around your waist, pulling you back against a firm, warm body. You turned in his arms, his chocolate brown eyes coming into view.

“Sorry, I forgot to mention we’re not staying in here, Miles and his girlfriend are.” Lewis said softly.

You had met Miles’ girlfriend a few times now and you had to say she was one of the sweetest people he could have ever found. You were very happy for him but at this moment you were slightly irked at that concept.

“Not to sound like a bitch, but really?” You said with a huff, making Lewis chuckle.

“Babe, it’ll-” He started but you cut him off.

“No, Lew, I mean, it’s your house and we’re supposed to be celebrating our anniversary. I don’t even want to be here, I wanted to be in Colorado with you and just you but I didn’t want to sound ungrateful or anything. I know you don’t get to see everybody all that often but I feel like you don’t even care that it’s our first anniversary together, it seems like it’s an after thought for you, if it’s even a thought at all.” You rambled your emotions to him quietly, not wanting to offend anyone.

Lewis frowned, his brows furrowed in concern, “Hun, I absolutely care, and I’m sorry for changing our plans like that,” He paused, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “but if you’d let me show you something I think you might change your mind about being here, just a little bit.”

You let out a sigh, shrugging, still not fully feeling like your anniversary was a priority to him.

“Hey, look at me, we’re going to have an incredible anniversary week together, in the place we first admitted we were in love with each other. There’s a part of the property I didn’t get to show you last time we were here, come with me and then you can decide if you still hate the idea of celebrating here.” He didn’t wait for an answer, grabbing your hands and urging you to follow him.

“Are we gonna see you two again tonight?” Charlotte called out teasingly as Lewis pulled you through the back doors.

“Maybe, maybe not, don’t count on it.” Lewis yelled back over his shoulder with a laugh.

You gave him another questioning look but he just told you to hurry up and pulled you quicker behind him. He took you to the forest, near the path you’d always taken down to the beach but this time veered off on a different small path that you had never really noticed the last time you were here. You were now walking next to him, his hand firmly grasping yours as you started to see a trail of sparkling lights illuminating the small path as the sun was going down.

“Watch your step love, there’s a few steps down right here.” Lewis’ voice pulled you out of the trance you had fallen into while admiring the pretty lights.

He held your hand while you took the few steps down before he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you under his arm, making your walk slightly clumsy.

“I know you would rather we were in Colorado, just the two of us, and I’m sorry, I really am. I wasn’t thinking when I booked this trip in all honesty, and I know that sounds bad, Charlotte yelled at me as soon as she saw the dates. Just, I wasn’t really thinking about the fact that it was our anniversary, it doesn’t feel like it could possibly be our one year because I feel like we’ve been together forever. So I know I fucked up, but I’ve also had this plan for bringing you back here for quite a while and I’ll be honest when Miles mentioned coming here for vacation I jumped on the opportunity, I needed to. And I know this isn’t exactly what you envisioned or what I promised and I’m sorry for that but I was hoping that maybe this could be our little sanctuary, make us forget that anyone else even exists.” Lewis’ apology is sweet but leaves you with more questions, wanting to know what his need to be back here so badly was.

You round the corner with him, walking out onto a part of the beach you hadn’t seen before, nestled into an alcove you hadn’t previously explored. That's when you see a small bridge, leading to the most beautiful bungalow sitting atop the water. You gasp, seeing it lit up with beautiful lights, making it sparkle.

“It’s technically supposed to be the guest house,” Lewis begins quietly, “but I figured it could be our little vacation from the group vacation. Somewhere it can be just us.”

You turn toward him, your eyes glassy, “It’s beautiful Lew, thank you.” You lean up to press your lips against his softly.

“Another bonus is you can be as loud as you want down here.” He whispers cheekily against your lips, pecking them once more.

“Lewis!” You laugh, swatting at his chest as you blush.

He catches your wrist with a big smile, pressing a kiss to your pulse point before grabbing your hand and pulling you along down to the bungalow.

“God, do we have to hike it all the way back up there to get our luggage?” You groan, realizing you have nothing with you.

“Nope,” Lewis laughs, “Miles decided to be helpful and already lugged it all down here, I unfortunately owe him.”

When he opened the door, you found yourself speechless. There was a small kitchen directly through the front door, nothing fancy but enough that you would never have to leave if you didn’t want to. As you walked past the kitchen and down the short hallway the room opened up. There was a bathroom with a large shower and a large soaker tub to your right and a lush king size bed to your left. Large windows lined the whole left side of the bungalow, a small seating area just below them. Straight ahead of you were large sliding doors that Lewis was already moving to open, once he did, the whole front wall was open.

“There’s a screen we can shut if it gets too buggy but I want you to see it like this first.” Lewis explained, already knowing you would be worried about strange bugs in your bed.

He outstretched his hand to you once again, pulling you out onto the patio. What you were met with amazed you even more than the inside. There was a hot tub off to the side, already bubbling away, more sparkling fairy lights lining the pergola that covered part of the patio. There were two large chaise lounges overlooking the endless view of the sea. He was already guiding you down another small set of stairs where you were met with a small infinity pool, just beside the pool was an outdoor shower. You spotted another set of steps that appeared to go off directly into the sea.

“Babe, it’s-” You were at a loss for words as you turned to him, not quite knowing how to sum up how incredible everything was.

He smiled, stepping in front of you and placing his large hands on your waist, “I know it’s not exactly what you envisioned, but I do want this to be special. I’m so sorry I fucked up our first anniversary, I promise I’ll do better with every single one to come.”

“It’s not what I envisioned, and I am still annoyed you forgot our anniversary,” You tease before becoming more serious, “but Lew, this is perfect, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Hey, I didn’t actually forget, it was a momentary lapse in judgment.” He playfully defends himself, pulling you closer to him.

“Whatever you say mister,” You laugh, “but I love it. I love you.”

He wastes no time in pressing his lips to yours, mumbling “I love you too, so much more than words could ever explain.”

“As much as I want to stay right here and kiss you forever, I really want to take a shower, I feel disgusting from all the flying.” You say when you finally separate from him.

“How about I run us a bath and we cuddle up and start to enjoy our belated anniversary celebrations.” He suggests, having you immediately nodding.

“Okay, you stay here and enjoy the view, I’ll come get you in a minute.” He says, squeezing your hip as he presses a kiss to your temple.

As he makes his way back up to the bungalow you settle into one of the comfy chairs overlooking the beautiful view. There’s still a slight annoyance in the back of your head at his admission of not even thinking of your anniversary when he planned this trip but you can’t help but be grateful that you will at least have him to yourself in some way this week. It may not be exactly what you had envisioned but you’re just happy that you will get to spend time with him. You understand what he was saying earlier, it doesn’t seem like it should be your one year anniversary, you truly feel like you’ve been with him forever. You practically live together, the most you possibly can with his ridiculous schedule. You’ve loved him far longer than you’ve been with him, and you’ve had the support and care of a partner from him since the day you met him. You know you’re going to be with him forever, nothing else would make sense, you could never fathom the idea of not being his now that you have him. You get lost in your thoughts as you wait for him, staring out over the beautiful ocean as you play through memories of your relationship like a highlight reel in your head. The first time he took you on a romantic getaway, the first time he introduced you as his girlfriend to his family, your first christmas together, your birthdays. Everything about him has felt like a fairytale.

“Hey baby, the bath is ready.” His soft voice startles you with its close proximity, you hadn’t even noticed him sit down on the arm of the chair next to you.

He chuckles when you jump, soothing his palm over your back, “Off in your own little world, were ya?”

“Oh shush, I was just enjoying the view.” You laugh along with him, moving to get up and follow him to the bathroom.

When you step into the bathroom you find yourself speechless yet again. The tub is up against a large window you hadn’t noticed earlier, giving you a spectacular view. He’s opened the window to let the warm breeze in, making the flames of the candles he’s placed around the room flicker in the wind. He has soft music playing and the tub is full to the brim with bubbles that smell like heaven. The lights are off except for a small light giving off hues of sunset, dimly illuminating the room. His hands are on your hips from behind, hiking up your shirt as he places soft kisses along your shoulder. He crouches down ever so slightly, kissing your spine as he pulls down your shorts and panties all at once. He places the softest of kisses to the back of your thighs before standing once more. When you turn to undress him, he’s already taken his shirt off, leaving you to push his shorts down his toned thighs, chuckling when you see he’s gone commando. He just shrugs, giving you a cheeky smirk before pulling you in to kiss him tenderly. For a moment you wonder if you will even make it to the bath as his hands roam your body, taking handfuls of the flesh that he loves to knead in his large palms. He eventually parts from you, leaving soft pecks all over your face before stepping around you and sinking down into the tub with a soft sigh. He simply stares at you for a moment, his face showing nothing but love and adoration, finally he outstretches his hand to help you in.

You lean back against his chest, reveling in the feeling of the firm muscles under his soft skin. His chin hooks over your shoulder, placing a kiss to your cheek as his arms snake around your waist to pull you in closer to him.

“Happy anniversary my love.” He whispers against your skin before he’s reaching over the edge of the tub to grab two glasses of champagne you hadn’t noticed before. He hands you one, clinking his glass against yours before rubbing his nose along your jaw up to your ear, “This has been one of the worst seasons of my career, yet one of the best years of my life, only thanks to you. You have made me happier than I ever knew possible and I hope that I have been able to reciprocate that for you. I plan on spending every day trying to make you the happiest, most loved woman on the face of this earth, because that is all that you deserve in life. You are the most remarkable human I have ever had the honor of meeting, Y/N. Thank you for letting me love you, and thank you for loving me the way that you do.”

By the end of his speech there are tears in your eyes. Looking at him you see the same glassiness mirrored in his own, knowing just how much he meant each and every word he whispered into your ear.

“I love you more than life itself Lewis, and I will never stop loving you. I’m sorry I was moody earlier, I was being petty. All I need to be happy is you, as long as you’re around, I am the happiest I can ever be. I’m already the happiest woman on earth simply because I get to say that I am loved by you, it’s truly something I don’t think I could ever explain to anyone. Thank you for all of this, it’s perfect, truly.” You tell him sincerely, your voice thick with emotion.

“Don’t apologize sweetheart, you had every reason to be annoyed with me. I hope you know it wasn’t remotely intentional, and I should have talked to you about it, even if it was after I’d made the plans. I’m sorry I’ve been a bit MIA this past week.” He further apologizes, holding your eyes with his to show just how serious he is.

You can see the remorse written across his face, never one that was good at hiding his emotions once he’s let them be seen for the first time. It’s as if once the floodgates that are Lewis’ emotions are opened to you, there is no closing it, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He wears his heart on his sleeve.

“Have you been okay?” You ask him, adjusting in his lap so you can look at him better, bringing your hand up to stroke the short stubble at the side of his jaw.

He furrows his brows in question, “Yeah, I’ve been fine. I’ve just been really busy these last few weeks, been planning something that I need to get perfect.”

“Oh? And what exactly have you been planning Sir Hamilton?” You ask him jokingly, yet always wanting to know what he’s working on, always interested in the amazing things he does.

He looks down, averting his eyes from you, looking suddenly shy, “You’ll see when the time’s right, soon, I promise.”

“Mm’kay.” You hum out, taking a sip of your champagne before nuzzling into his chest, resting your head on his shoulder.

He just chuckles, the sound vibrating through your body, tightens his arm around you to rest his cheek on the top of your head.

“I love you, happy one year.” He whispers to you.

“I love you, happy one year.” You repeat as you grin into the skin on his neck, placing a chaste kiss there.

If anyone had asked you how you thought you would be spending your one year anniversary with the love of your life, this would have never been your answer. The two of you cuddled in the warm bath, listening to the sound of the waves crashing, hidden away from your friends in your own private Caribbean bungalow. You had expected him to make a move while you were in the tub, but he didn’t, leaving you slightly shocked but not entirely disappointed. You hadn’t seen him in nearly three weeks and you could feel him pressed against your leg, hard and begging to be touched, it was unlike the two of you to not immediately pounce on one and other the second you were alone. Yet something about the moment with him in the tub felt more intimate than sex ever could, the two of you just enjoying being in each other's arms, each other’s presence, knowing you had more than enough time to reunite later on.

“Where do you want to be in five years?” Lewis asked quietly, breaking the comfortable silence as his hand traced slow circles on your hip.

“Five years?” You asked, lifting your head to look at him.

“Yeah.” He shrugged like he was trying to play it off as a casual question, his face giving him away.

“Well,” You start, pausing to think a bit, “I want to be with you-”

“Well obviously.” He cut you off with a playful smirk.

“Hey, you didn’t let me finish.” You laugh.

“Sorry, I’m usually good about that,” He winks, “continue.”

“Idiot,” You mumble through a laugh before continuing, “I want to be happy, surrounded by people I love. I’d like to be in a different job, I think, something where I have more flexibility. I just want to be someone that me now would be proud of.”

He smiles fondly at you, evidently content with your answer.

“What about you?” You prompt him, genuinely curious.

“I think I want to be done with racing, moving on to a new chapter of my life, with you by my side obviously.” He says quietly.

“You really think you’ll be done in five years? I know you’ve mentioned it before but, do you really think so?” You ask.

“Yeah, we’ve been going over my contract a lot these last few weeks and I think my mind is finally set. I obviously want to get the eighth title, but if that doesn’t happen in the next five years, maybe it was never meant to.” He explains.

“It’s always been meant to, if anyone can it’s you Lew.” You argue.

“I don’t mean that in a way of me giving up, I’m gonna fight like hell until the last possible second. I just mean that maybe now there are more important things for me to start focusing on, other purposes out there for me where my attention and time will be more valuable.” The way he says his words sounds like he’s talking about much more than a career change and it makes your stomach flip in anticipation, imagining your future with him.

“Whatever you end up doing, I’m positive it will be incredible, everything you do is tremendous. And I will be right there supporting you the entire way.” You tell him sincerely, leaning in to press your lips to his.

The kiss is slow and savoring, it mutes everything in your head, making the world revolve around him and only him.

“The water’s starting to get a bit cold, why don’t we get out. I’ve got some ways I can warm you up.” He murmurs against your lips.

“There he is.” You laugh, pulling away.

“What do you mean?” He giggles.

“You’ve been rock hard against my leg for the last thirty minutes and haven’t made a single move on me, I was starting to get worried about you.” You tease him.

“Oh, believe me, I’m well aware of how hard I’ve been.” He playfully rolls his eyes, “I was trying to be romantic.”

“Mmmm, I see.” You hum.

“Genuinely though, I was just enjoying cuddling with you, didn’t want to ruin the moment. But I need you. Now.” His voice gets lower as he finishes his statement, picking you up and standing abruptly.

His quick movement makes water slosh over the edge of the tub, causing you to squeal. He grabs a towel, not using it to dry either of you off but throws it down on the bed before dropping you on top of it.

“You know we could have done this exactly where we were?” You laugh at him as he crowds up against you, already placing hungry kisses down your jaw.

“Maybe, yeah, but it would be a bit hard to pin you down in the tub, I don't really want to drown the woman that I love.” He chuckles against you, grabbing your wrists to bring them above your head.

This is one of the things you’ve always loved with Lewis. You can be in the middle of something so erotic and intimate, yet still be laughing and making jokes with him. He truly is your best friend in the form of a lover.

His lips are trailing down your bare skin, causing your laughter to halt and goosebumps to erupt over your whole body. He doesn’t take even a moment to tease you, immediately diving into your core, licking a hot stripe from your opening all the way to your nerves. You gasp as you arch into him, a throaty groan coming from deep inside him. He always wears you out when you’ve been apart for some time, as if he’s making up for lost time.

“Always taste so fucking good. God I missed you.” He mumbles against your heat, the sound vibrating through your body.

He works his tongue in the way only he knows how, circling your clit perfectly before sucking it into his mouth, nibbling just enough to have your toes curling. You feel one of his fingers slip into you, already soaking wet from just being so close to him. His finger curls, expertly finding the spongy spot inside of you that he knows so well.

“Fuck, Lewis, yes, right there.” You breathe out, your head tilting back into the towel underneath you.

He slips a second finger in, scissoring them to get you ready for him, before returning to a steady ‘come hither’ motion inside of you. He knows he needs you to come at least once before he finally takes you, it’s been too long and he never wants you to be uncomfortable, and he’s doing everything in his power to get you there. Fast.

“That feel good babygirl? You missed me making you feel good?” He asks, already knowing the answer from your flushed cheeks and mouth hung open.

All you can do to respond is moan and buck your hips up toward him, your ability to speak already gone from the moment he put his lips on you.

“Yeah pretty girl? You been trying to make yourself feel good while I’ve been gone?” He continues with his questions, evidently enjoying how difficult it is for you to respond as his thumb finds your clit, flicking quickly.

You nod, turning your head to the side as you let out a loud moan when a third finger slips inside of you.

“Poor baby, it doesn’t feel this good does it? Doesn’t feel as good as me inside of you, can’t make yourself cum the way I can?” He’s moved up so he’s hovering above you, his fingers still working overtime to get you to your peak.

You feel your stomach tighten at his words, knowing he’s right, and then your orgasm rips through your body, soaking his hand. He barely lets up with his movements as he works you through it, kissing your throat, your cheek, your forehead, anywhere his lips can land to work you down from your high.

“You know how I know it’s not the same?” He asks, his voice deep and filled with lust.

You hum, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Because it’s never the same for me either. No matter how many times I wrap my hand around my cock, it will never come close to the feeling of being inside you. Nothing makes me feel the way you do, nothing will ever come close. I always need you, nothing but you.” His words are mumbled against your skin as he draws his lips up your neck before finally attaching them to your own.

You don’t know where you find the strength but you manage to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly close as you open your mouth for him. He licks into your mouth, his tongue toying with your own as he rests most of his weight on you, something that you have grown to love. You find yourself bringing one of your hands down in between the two of you, grasping his hard cock. He groans into your mouth at the simple touch, evidently pent up from the time in the tub. You work him in slow strokes, savoring the feeling of his silky, hot skin. Your thumb swiping over his swollen tip to collect the leaking precum. He whimpers at the feeling, his head falling into the crook of your neck before he's grabbing your wrist.

“Y/N, baby, I’m gonna need you to stop or I’m gonna cum before I even get the chance to be inside of you.” His voice sounds pained as he pins your wrist up next to your head.

Within seconds he’s readjusting and you feel the fat head of his cock pressed against your opening. He stares deep into your eyes as he pushes in slowly, both of your mouths falling open in pure ecstasy at the feeling of finally being connected. It’s truly a feeling like no other, it feels like coming home after a long stressful week, it feels like falling into the comfiest bed, like being wrapped in a hug by someone you love. It completes you. His forehead falls to rest against your own as he stills inside of you, finally bottomed out.

“Please.” You whimper, bringing your legs up around his hips.

He lowers himself down onto you, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of your head, “I’ve got you baby, I know.”

Slowly he starts to pull out before thrusting back in with a certain force that quenches every need in your body. You grasp his bicep next to your head, your hand not able to reach all the way around it. He’s crowded over you, making you feel small and fragile, his strong broad frame engulfing you entirely. With every thrust he has your head spinning more and more. His eyes are trained on your face, always obsessed with seeing how you fall apart underneath him. His calculated, practiced moves make sure you will do just that. You can see the veins starting to pop out in his strong neck, using all his restraint to not cum before you, his whimpers becoming more frequent. You aren’t prepared, unaware you were so close to your orgasm, when it shoots through your body, even more violent than the first.

“Fuck, squeezing me so tight Y/N, I’m gonna-” His words are cut off with a guttural moan, his thrusts becoming sloppy before he’s spilling into you. Hot spurts of cum lacing your walls as you feel him twitch inside of you, a feeling you’ve become obsessed with.

He’s still pulsing inside of you as he relaxes down onto your body, momentarily crushing you but you welcome it, finding some semblance of strength to rub your fingers up and down his back. He peppers kisses along your neck, mumbling sweet nothings that you can’t hear through the ringing in your ears. The first thing you hear as you come back into yourself is a mumbled “I love you”. You lay there together, his weight bearing down on you as he stays deep inside of you, a frequent occurrence after time away, never ready to part from each other. Finally after some time he raises up to slip out of you, making you wince.

“I know baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He’s whispering, pressing light kisses to your cheek.

“I’ve really missed you these last few weeks.” You confess to him, your post orgasm brain feeling more open than usual.

“I know sweetie, I’ve missed you like crazy too. I’m sorry it was so long this time.” He says, kneeling in front of you, massaging your thighs.

You take a moment to admire him. A few of his braids have fallen from their usual bun, framing his beautiful face. The moon is shining in through the open window behind him, making him glow as though he truly is an angel placed on earth. His tattoos are dark against his tan skin, swirling black that you’ve spent hours tracing as you fall asleep or wait for him to wake up. He is your person and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Look, I know we just took a bath, but what if we hop in the shower really quick and get properly cleaned up and then I can make us a snack.” He offers, pulling at your ankle.

You just nod, letting him maneuver you up and out of the bed and into the shower. While this may not be the anniversary you had expected with him, you are more than content in this moment, just happy to be with the man that you love, and that loves you so much.

. . .

The moment you arrived back up at the main house you had been teased endlessly for not coming back up the night before. You had blushed like a highschooler but Lewis seemed proud, not having a care in the world that all of your friends were well aware how you two had spent the night.

“Ya know what? It’s our anniversary week, let us fuck in peace.” He had said pointedly at Charlotte when she had finally gotten on his nerves.

You felt bad for Miles' girlfriend, Cleo. She hadn’t spent much time with the group before, much less Lewis, and was evidently unprepared for just how little filter there was with everyone. She sat at the island with wide eyes as Lewis and Charlotte bantered about your sex life. You had shot her an apologetic smile as you tried to redirect your boyfriend onto a new topic. After that the day went smoothly. You ended up laying around the pool, everyone occasionally going for a swim or throwing around a football, just enjoying finally being away from their hectic lives.

You ended up sitting with Cleo for a little while, hoping to get to know her a little bit better. You already quite liked her, finding her to be a great fit for Miles. If she was dating your boyfriend's bestfriend you only found it fitting that you learn a little bit about her. You ended up chatting for quite some time, noticing that both Lewis and Miles would glance at you both from time to time, content smiles on their faces that their girls were getting along so well.

“Miles really likes you, ya know?’ Cleo had said, surprising you.

“I hope so, he’s one of my best friends.” You laughed.

“Well yeah,” She laughed with you, “but I mean for Lewis, if that makes sense.”

You gave her a questioning look, urging her to continue.

“He talks a lot about how glad he is that you two are together, that he’s never seen Lewis this happy.” She continued, “I don’t really know Lewis that well, I’ve only met him like twice, but from what I can see he really loves you. Nobody looks at somebody like that unless they’re head over heels.”

Her words made you blush, not expecting her to say something like that, “I really love him too.”

“I can tell.” Cleo responded with a smile.

“Alright, who’s ready to go out and get drunk?” Steph yelled from behind you, ending your conversation with Cleo.

Your mind immediately flashed back to the last time you had all been at the islands club together. You couldn’t help but wonder if Miles and Lewis would even be allowed back in. Your eyes flicked over to Lewis who was rolling his eyes and already making his way over to you.

“I’m gonna steal her if you don’t mind.” He said politely to Cleo as he was already pulling you up out of your seat.

“As much as I would love to go just to see Mariana-” You start.

“We’ll go see Mariana while we’re here, but some other time. They can all go out and get drunk, I have other plans for us tonight, if that’s okay of course.” He easily cuts you off.

You let out a sigh of relief, immediately nodding.

“Good, now I’m gonna go figure out how to let Steph down easily.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead before stepping around you and making his way over to your friend.

“Come on Lewis, it’s been forever since we all went out.” You hear Steph argue with whatever he says to her.

“First off, do you remember the last time we all went out here? Didn’t go too well. Second-” Before he can continue his rebuttal he’s being cut off by Charlotte who is shockingly on his side.

“It’s their anniversary week, tonight is very important Steph. Remember?” You can tell Charlotte is alluding to something that you are clearly out of the loop on.

You watch as Stephs eyes go wide before nodding quickly while Lewis mutters to Charlotte “Real subtle Char’.”

You look at Cleo who just shrugs her shoulders, obviously not aware of what's going on either.

Everyone eventually calms down and starts getting ready, heading inside to pregame as you and Lewis say goodnight. He is promptly pulling you back down to your private bungalow for whatever he has in store for you tonight. When you get inside, he is pulling the shades closed on the windows that overlook the beach. You give him a look, knowing it’s not for your own privacy.

“Okay, I want you to take a nice long shower or bath or get in the pool or something for a little while. I’m gonna go take care of some things and then I’ll come join you and we can get ready.” He explains vaguely.

“What exactly are you taking care of?” You question him, still rather confused.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll see soon enough. Just trust me, alright?” He shakes his head.

“Okay weirdo. Why’d you close the blinds?” You continue to question.

He lets out a small huff as he shakes his head with a smile, “You never stop with the questions, do you? Just trust me. Off you go.” He says as he turns you around, patting your butt, making you giggle.

You decide to spend some time in the pool, hearing him leave the small bungalow as you change into a different suit. When you slip into the pool you can feel the water cooling your toasted skin. You let yourself look out at the beautiful view, taking in the sounds and the scents that envelope you as you bask in your real life fairytale. You never thought that you would have this kind of life, being in beautiful places with an even more beautiful man who loves you so unashamedly, so wholeheartedly. You let yourself day dream about your future with him, how many kids you might have one day, where the two of you will inevitably settle down, what your wedding day will be like. You stay in the pool for what feels like a solid hour, still no sign of Lewis. You end up getting out, heading to take a shower when you hear other people's voices outside. Everything inside of you wants to run over to the window and peek at what might be going on outside but you restrain yourself, not wanting to ruin whatever it is that Lewis has planned for you. You end up staying in the shower much longer than usual, just enjoying the feeling of the water cascading through your hair and down your spine. A pair of broad arms wrapping around your waist surprises you, you hadn’t even heard him come in. He giggles at your shock, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. Wordlessly you step out from under the water, letting him shower, letting yourself admire him as you so frequently do before stepping out and wrapping yourself in a towel.

“Hey, I wanted some company.” He complains from under the shower head.

“If I stay in any longer I may turn into an actual prune.” You say, making him laugh

He’s much quicker with his shower than you had been. Coming into the bedroom as you stare at your suitcase.

“You know, it tends to be easier if you actually put the clothes on rather than just try to will them onto your body.” He teases you, pinching your hip.

“Well if I knew what I was getting dressed for it would be a hell of a lot easier.” You say to him, suddenly feeling stressed.

“Hey,” He says, sensing your unease, “wear whatever you're comfortable in, it’s just you and me.”

“But this seems special, I don’t want to mess it up.” You say, rummaging through your suitcase.

“It’s special because it’s us, doesn’t matter what you wear. There’s very little you could do to screw this up, I promise.” He says. 

You feel a small weight lift from your shoulders when you look up to see him slipping a t-shirt over his head. Part of you wonders if he did it just to make you feel better. You give him a soft smile, finally deciding on a sundress that is the perfect combination of cute and casual.

“Ready?” He asks, his hand outstretched, waiting for yours.

“Always.” You smile, taking his hand.

As he leads you out of the bungalow you feel your breath catch in your throat. If you thought the beach was beautiful before, you’re not sure quite what word you would describe it as now. He has had the beach lined with lights and candles, torches lining their way up to a beautifully set yet simple table. You can see that there’s a meal already waiting for the two of you on the table.

“Still trust me?” He asks quietly.

You just nod, looking around at the beautiful scenery, amazed that he made all of this happen. When you finally reach the table in the sand he is pulling your chair out for you.

“Madame.” He says playfully, gesturing for you to take a seat.

You giggle as he places a kiss to your cheek, moving around to his side of the table. He grabs the corkscrew off the table, taking the bottle of wine that was already waiting for the two of you.

“I wanted tonight to be special, and I wanted to be able to surprise you somehow. Sorry I locked you away for a bit.” He chuckles toward the end.

“Ah, how dare you lock me away in literal paradise.” You tease him, making him smile.

“You like it?” He asks and you can tell he’s nervous, not meeting your eyes as he pours you both a glass of wine.

“I love it Lew, it’s beautiful, thank you.” You tell him, reaching across the table to take his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I wasn’t sure how to exactly pull off making you dinner without you noticing so I kind of cheated and hired someone, well I actually hired Mariana, she’s quite the cook. She was upset she couldn’t come in and see you, I promised we’d come see her later this week. I did the lights though.” You can tell he’s still nervous, rambling things quickly.

“Well I have to say the lights are incredible, and I’d love to go see them.” You say with a light tone but absolutely meaning it, you feel like you're in some sort of wonderland.

He finally pulls the cover off of your meals, making your mouth immediately water, it looks incredible. Lewis has taken you on endless incredible dates, but this one has to take the cake, the effort alone making you swoon. 

Once he is convinced that you are just as happy as you say you are, you can see him visibly relax. His whole demeanor shifting back to the light hearted, loving man that you know so well. Dinner carries on as usual, your conversations seamlessly going from joking banter to important life topics, the flow that you’ve always found yourself so comfortable in with him, even before you started dating. Once you’ve finished eating he’s bringing his seat closer to yours so he can wrap his arm around the back of your chair, pulling you into his warm side.

“You know last night when I asked where you wanted to be in five years?” He asks you quietly.

You hum, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Well, I left something out of my answer.” He says, confusing you. “I know I said I wanted you by my side, obviously, but I didn’t really elaborate enough.” He’s only confused you further.

Before you can question him, he’s standing from his seat and moving his chair back. You swear your heart stops when you look at him. He’s down on one knee in front of you, reaching into his pocket.

“Lew.” You croak out, not sure what else to say.

“I know, I know that to every other person on the earth, this probably seems insane. It probably seems so fucking quick, and hell it is, but Y/N, I know what I want, and what I want is you, forever. I have loved you far longer than I’ve ever let you know and I think the same goes for you. Since the day I met you I knew that you were going to be monumental in my life somehow, I just didn’t realize exactly how or quite how much. I love you more than I have ever loved anything before, I love you in a way I didn’t know was possible, in a way I didn’t even know I was capable of.” He pauses for a moment, finally opening the small box in his hand to reveal the most beautiful ring you have ever seen in your life, “I’m not asking you to marry me tomorrow, we can still take our time, we have so much ahead of us. All I’m asking is that tonight you make me a promise, that one day you will be my wife. You’re my forever Y/N Y/L/N, let me be yours.”

There are tears streaming steadily down your face, not sure how to process everything he’s saying. You want to nod your head, you want to say yes, but you’re frozen, until those words finally slip through his lips.

“Y/N, baby, will you marry me?” His own voice catches in his throat as he asks the question, obviously nervous and overwhelmed.

“Yes,” you finally choke out, “oh my god of course, yes, fuck of course.”

Your cries are now turning into almost laughter, overjoyed and overrun with emotion.

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding as if he doesn’t truly believe what he’s hearing.

“Oh my god, yes.” You cry through your smile as he stays frozen on his knee, his face breaking into a smile. “Kiss me you idiot.” You laugh.

Within seconds his lips are on yours, pulling you up out of your chair to hold you as close as humanly possible. You can taste the salt of your combined tears as you both laugh into the kiss, giddy with excitement.

“I know it’s so quick but I feel like we’ve been together so much longer than we really have. We can wait as long as you want, there’s absolutely no rush. I just need to know that one day you’ll be my wife, and I want the world to know that too.” He rambles when he finally pulls away.

“I know, I know, of course,” you laugh, kissing him again, “now give me my ring!”

He laughs at you, fumbling with the box slightly through shaky hands before finally sliding the ring onto your finger. It fits perfectly and you can’t help but wonder if Charlotte helped him. The diamonds twinkle in the fairy lights surrounding your table as you admire the look of your engagement ring sitting on your finger.

“So do I have to wait to become Mrs. Hamilton?” You ask.

“Y/N, I would marry you tomorrow if you let me.” He says, kissing you again, your teeth clashing through your smiles.

“What were you going to do if I said no?” You ask him with a teasing tone.

“Honestly? I have no idea, but I was pretty confident you’d say yes.” He says, smirking.

“Is this why you needed to bring me back here?” You ask him, staring at your new ring.

“Yeah, it only felt right. Full circle.” He whispers, “This is also why I’ve been so awol recently. I was making last minute changes to the ring because it needed to be perfect and I was trying to plan this. I’ve been so excited and I know myself well enough to know that I would have let it slip if I was talking to you too much. I’ve never been able to lie to you.”

You can’t help but laugh at the fact that not only is that true, but the reason you had been so annoyed with him the last few weeks was actually a side effect of him planning the most beautiful, loving thing you could think of.

“Everybody knows, don’t they?” You giggle, knowing he wouldn’t have been able to keep it from at least Charlotte and Miles.

“Yeah, they’ve known for a while, longer than I’ve even had the ring.” He blushes.

“Lewis, I love you so much. Thank you, I can’t wait to marry you, I’m so glad you’re the man that will be by my side for the rest of my life.” You tell him sincerely, feeling yourself get emotional again at the thought.

“I love you too my darling, I wouldn’t dream of going through life with anyone else.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Final Note: I had to stop myself from continuing on with this and adding a time jump and their wedding day, it was so tempting. Let me know, does anyone want a one shot of their wedding day at some point? Some cute pre-wedding jitters, vows, wedding night, etc?

I hope you all enjoyed!

[archiveikemen]

『 Dark If 』 Story Event: Chapter 2

Jude Jazza

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

I immediately started doing my research on curses and magic in the library.

Due to my sheltered upbringing at the castle, every piece of knowledge I gained from the books was new to me.

Kate: “Time is not irreversible, and space is not unchangeable”.

Kate: “Like a complicated intertwining of threads, the past and the future, as well as different worlds can be connected”.

Kate: … This might be why I have memories of living in both England and this fairytale world…

They once existed separately, but they were now connected into one.

Just like two pieces of thread being intertwined.

The pages of the book rustled as I flipped to the page with information on fairies.

Fairies possess extraordinary powers and are rare in number. They often cause disputes between countries.

It is not an uncommon occurrence for them to be targets of assassination by other countries, as killing a fairy would give them an advantage in terms of war strategy.

(Fairy can easily plan the overthrow of an entire country, and so everyone who refuses to join the military is often imprisoned or executed—)

Kate: … So that’s how it is…

(The overprotective King and the country’s military meekly accepted my situation, just because he’s a fairy…)

I felt furious and ashamed at my lack of knowledge on what was happening around me.

Jude: What have you been doing here every single night?

Kate: Jude…

The moment I saw him, I instantly regretted the things I said to him a few days ago.

Kate: … I’m sorry for saying that you're being targeted because of your bad personality.

Jude: Huh? I don't get what you're talking about.

Kate: Like you said, I’m too ignorant about many things. I realise that now.

Kate: So, for you to listen to what I want… I’ll try to discuss them with you on equal terms.

Jude: … Hah.

Jude scoffed and hooked a fingertip under my collar, pulling my face closer.

Jude: I assumed that you’d be an overly pampered and spoiled brat because of the sheltered upbringing you received for many years.

Jude: What nice eyes you have. Makes me want to make you cry.

Kate: … W-What?

He looked down at me with his usual sadistic expression. And yet, for some strange reason, I felt rather uplifted this time.

(Not that I’m happy I got some form of validation from him or anything… I think.)

Jude: Hm, hope you try as hard as you can.

Jude let go of my collar and left the library.

(— Now that I think of it, he calls me a servant and makes me wear a collar.)

However, apart from leaving the castle, there was nothing else I wasn't allowed to do.

“I’m safe here, so please don't send any soldiers over. That will only result in unnecessary deaths”.

Ellis delivered my letter to the palace, he had been kind enough to help me communicate with them and assure them of my safety.

(If this curse is because of a grudge he has against me— I might have done something wrong to him in the past.)

(But why do I have no recollection of it…?)

To vent my frustration, I completely drowned myself in researching curses and magic.

…

Before I knew it, days went by—

Kate: Oh, good morning, Jude.

Jude: … Are you doing that on purpose?

Kate: … What do you mean?

Jude: Bed hair.

I hurriedly apologised and roughly combed my hair with my fingers.

I lowered my face to hide that my heart fluttered.

Jude: Pfft, you turned red over something like this. You’re so childish.

Rather than being used to his sadistic attitude, I found myself beginning to be slightly attracted to him.

(Um… this must be one of those tropes in fiction where the victim falls for the kidnapper, something like that.)

(This isn’t love… yup.)

Kate: You spent the whole night in your study last night, right? Have you been sleeping well?

Jude: Hah, what’s this? Is the little one worried about me?

Jude: Worry about me after you know how to fix your bed hair and greet me properly in the morning, Princess.

Kate: Ouch…

My forehead stung when he flicked me with his finger.

Jude: You like the pain, huh.

I averted my gaze, avoiding his mocking yet attractive smile.

Kate: I don’t. … Please lift the curse today.

Jude: Ah, ah, you're getting snappy. Looks like I won’t lift the curse today too.

Jude laughed at my request and left for work as usual.

…

Time passed by without mercy, my search for the missing piece in this world and my pleas for my curse to be lifted both remained fruitless—

(Jude…?)

There was one day where Jude was out of the castle for an usually long time and only returned at midnight. I happened to see him when I was peeking out of the library.

Right when his back disappeared into his study.

I noticed something on the carpet—

(Is that… blood?)

A shiver ran down my spine, and I immediately rushed to the study.

…

The study was filled with mountains of books — there Jude was, slouched in a chair at the center of the room, looking pale.

Kate: Jude… are you hurt…?

Jude: … Did I not say that no one is allowed in this room without my permission?

Jude: It’s just a scratch. Hurry up and get out.

Kate: Even if it’s only a small matter, I can’t leave an injured person alone. Let me help you treat your wound.

I approached Jude against his will and saw the piles of papers and documents on his desk.

Kate: … You shut yourself in your study every night. Just what exactly are you researching?

Kate: Is it also the reason why you were out late today…?

Jude: … So what if it is?

Kate: You’ll damage your health if you keep this up.

Kate: Putting your life at risk because of a promise… it's as though you’re the one who’s in danger, Jude.

Jude: … What?

Kate: — It’s like a curse.

Jude: Hah… you actually said it.

Without delay, a hand wrapped around my neck like a snake.

It was as if he wanted to remind me that he was the one who cursed me, and that my life was in his hands.

Kate: … ggh…

My collar was tightened, making me struggle to breathe.

Jude: Being cursed to death for the entirety of your long life over some stupid promise is a pretty big deal.

Jude: You’re worrying about me — and yet, you’ll still fall into a deep slumber tomorrow because of your curse. Have you forgotten all about that?

Jude: Go back to your room right now if you don’t want your head blown off, Princess.

He then slammed the door loudly in my face.

That’s right, before I knew it, my birthday was — tomorrow.

…

(At this rate, I’ll really fall into a deep sleep for 100 years, just like I’m cursed to.)

(Not knowing why Jude cursed me, what’s the missing piece in this world, nothing at all…)

While I was feeling restless and having difficulty sleeping, I suddenly heard the ear-piercing sound of glass shattering.

(Is someone attacking the castle again…?)

I should've been used to the noise by now, and yet… it felt especially unsettling this time.

(There are more voices and footsteps than usual today.)

(Ellis is staying overnight in a town at the foot of the mountain tonight to purchase some items, and Jude is injured.)

Kate: … [worried]

I quickly flew out of bed and ran into the hallway.

…

Jude: Tch… why did you come out here for? Go back to sleep.

Kate: Please don’t say such absurd things in the midst of this ruckus…

Soldier: Princess Kate!

(— Soldiers?!)

Kate: Why are you… I’ve already informed my father than I’m safe…!

Soldier: Your Highness, tomorrow is your last day as per your curse.

Soldier: His Majesty ordered us to take you back to the palace at once, as he wants to see your face for the last time!

(Father…)

Jude: — Unfortunately, the Princess won’t be going home with you.

As if hiding me from the soldiers downstairs, Jude pushed me down with one hand.

Kate: Jude? You’ll be treated as a traitor if you do this, and be an even greater target…

Jude: Hah, you’re worrying over nothing. Besides, you’ll die if you return to the palace now.

Kate: What…?

(What do you mean by that…? My curse is to fall into a deep sleep for 100 years when I prick myself on the spindle of a spinning wheel.)

But, just now, Jude clearly said that I would “die”.

Kate: Are you saying that there’s something else that could kill me, apart from my curse?

Jude: … The incompetency of the doctors at the palace.

Just then, I saw a blazing arrow flying towards Jude—

Kate: … Watch out…!

Jude: !?

In an attempt to shield him from it, I lost my balance—

Jude: … Kate!

— I fell headlong into the atrium, and into the arms of a soldier sent by my father.

Soldier: Princess Kate! Are you hurt!?

Kate: Is Jude…!?

I looked up at the mezzanine — Jude seemingly got distracted by my fall and was subdued by the soldiers.

Jude: Damn it… why did you fall, you idiot?!

Kate: … P-Please, he’s injured… please don’t be rough with him!

Soldier: We will be detaining him for the abduction and confinement of the Princess.

Kate: P-Please wait… listen to me—!

...

No one heard my cries… and we were brought to the palace in separate carriages.

(What should I do… Jude was captured because of me.)

Based on what I’ve read in books about how fairies are treated, I had a rough idea of Jude’s fate.

In place of overlooking his crimes, Jude would be forced to protect our country by attacking enemy countries.

(Jude still has a promise to fulfill…)

— “I won’t ever break this promise, even in death.”

Kate: …?

I thought I heard someone’s voice.

Immediately, the scenery before me distorted and I felt myself being pulled by some unknown force.

(W-Wha…? Did I hit my head—)

…

I shut my eyes tightly due to the dizziness, and when I opened them—

I found myself in an unfamiliar back alley.

(... Where is this place…?)

I saw that my reflection in a building’s windowpane appeared childlike, approximately 10 years old.

(Is this… me as a child?)

Judging from my dainty and expensive-looking dress, it was unlikely that this was the “me” who lived in England.

Right at that moment— the angry voices of a few grown-ups could be heard from outside the alley.

Man’s Voice: Get him! We want him alive!

Man’s Voice: You little pest… making things difficult for me—!

I peeked out of the alley and saw a little boy around my age being chased by a group of grown-ups.

He was covered in wounds; and his eyes looked like they had a roaring fire burning inside them, as if he bore a grudge against the entire world.

The boy was about to pass by the alley, when—

Kate: … Hide—!

Boy: Huh!?

I pulled him into the alley and heaved a sigh of relief as we hid behind a stack of wooden crates, listening to the footsteps of the grown-ups fade away into the distance.

Kate: … Looks like they’re gone now. Why were they after you? Are you hurt—?

Boy: … You don’t know me. I’m a wanted person throughout the country.

Kate: You are? But, why would they be after such a young child…

Boy: A young child? Aren’t you about the same age as me?

(Ah… could it be—)

Kate: Are you able to use magic?

Boy: — So what if I am?

The boy very clearly became increasingly wary of me.

I recalled the heartless words “children of fairies are often wanted as a valuable asset, thus they may be hunted down”.

Kate: Don’t worry, I won’t capture you.

Jude (The Little Boy): … Who knows if you’re telling the truth. Looking at your clothes, you probably a noble’s daughter or royalty. People with money and power are untrustworthy scums.

Kate: I’m telling you the truth! … I think that it’s wrong for someone to be wanted, targeted, and stripped of their freedom when they haven't committed a crime…!

I remembered Jude being attacked at his castle in the mountains nearly every day.

My words involuntarily came out of my mouth, expressing all the pent up frustration I had from my days spent at that castle.

Kate: Ah… sorry for raising my voice.

Boy: … Pfft, why apologise? It’s fine. I agree with you.

Boy: … And your face doesn't look like you’re capable of lying.

Boy: You don’t seem intelligent enough to fool someone for your personal gain— huh?

Boy: Oi, show me your face.

Kate: Huh? Wha—

He brought my face closer and examined it closely, seemingly trying to see something.

(His eyes… they look cold, yet so beautiful.)

Boy: Tch… you look like you have some kind of disease.

Kate: A disease…?

Boy: You have about 10 years left to live.

Kate: W-What…!? Are you saying that I’ll die in 10 years time…!?

Boy: I owe you for saving my life, I’m not going to let you die.

Boy: 10 years later when you’re about to die, I’ll make time stop.

Boy: I don't know how many years will it take to find a cure for your disease… 100 years should suffice.

Kate: H-Hold on… what do you mean by that?

Boy: You slow princess. I’m saying that I’ll save you. Go on and cry tears of gratitude for me.

Boy: I won’t ever break this promise, even in death.

The boy poked my forehead with a finger.

Boy: 10 years from now, you will prick your finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and fall into a deep sleep for 100 years.

Kate: W-Why do I have to prick my finger on a spindle…?

Boy: Maybe it’s just the way you look, who knows. Besides — you seem to enjoy pain.

His thin lips curled into a mocking smile.

Kate: — Have we ever met somewhere before…?

…

— I found myself back in the carriage I was forced into.

(That dream… it felt oddly real.)

I could still feel the sensation of a finger touching my forehead.

“Time is not irreversible, and space is not unchangeable. Like a complicated intertwining of threads, the past and the future, as well as different worlds can be connected.”

(The past and the present… connected…?)

I came to this world from England — and now, I have a promise with Jude from the past.

That idea should've been ridiculous, and yet the dots connected perfectly and formed a truth.

Kate: So, the present day Jude is currently imprisoned — and then there's the curse.

Kate: What about the promise we made just now…?

– Flashback Start –

King: … That night, you had a quarrel with me and ran away from the palace. You then lost your consciousness and collapsed in an alley.

– Flashback End –

Thinking about it made me finally understand why I had no memories of back then.

It was because the “me” who met the young Jude in the back alley, was “me” from the present day.

I came into this fairytale world, and made a promise with Jude from the past.

That’s why, before I met Jude from the past, I didn't have any memories of making that promise.

(But, still… I’m certain that I wasn't scared of the curse.)

(Because Jude didn't curse me out of spite.)

(He cursed me to buy time, so that a cure for my disease could be found.)

That means, according to the curse, I need to be pricked by a spindle.

It was the only way to fulfil our promise, which was for me to fall asleep and stop death from reaching me.

Kate: A spindle…

Kate: I have to look for a spindle—

[hrts4hanniehae]

clutch || eight

there are written parts :)

note that the timeline or educations may not add up but just ignore it because i don't have the brain power to sync up THIRTEEN + 1 's education schedules

sorry for the late chpt. I was really sick so i tried my best on this chpt. next chpt will be longer, i promise.

warnings: some level of chae-young attempting infidelity, swearing

wonwoo came home to find yn passed out on the couch.

"you okay?" - wonwoo

"i need sleep. i've been stuck at school finishing my final project and i just finished. now i have to worry about the stupid reunion in two days. i have no dress and i look like a zombie. life is great." - yn

"go take a shower. i'll get the guys to help you. jeonghan has connections." - wonwoo

the word shock wasn't enough to describe the look on everyone's faces when yn and wonwoo walked in through the door.

some background information: in the one week before this gathering, yn had completed her pieces for the museum, her final project for university and all her outstanding commissions. her exhibit had been very successful and she had earned quite a significant amount of money.

"yn. is that your boyfriend?" - aunt

"yes. this is jeon wonwoo, my boyfriend." - yn

"nice to meet you, my name is jeon wonwoo." - wonwoo

"yn-noona... isn't that the streamer gameboi? you're dating Korea's number 1 [game name] player?" - younger cousin

"no way..."

the whispers in the event room got louder and louder until the people she hated finally came towards her. it was evident that chae-young was gawking at wonwoo. she didn't even bother to hide her lovestruck expression from her husband.

"so this is the new guy you have, huh yn." - mother

"good morning, i'm jeon wonwoo." - wonwoo

it seemed like he had to repeat himself often today.

"what's your net worth?" a disrespectful question right off the bat was expected and both yn and wonwoo had prepared for it.

without missing a beat, wonwoo simply smiled and said, "14 million. I am sure that I have enough to take care of yn for the rest of our lives."

the jealousy that clouded chae-young's face was the best thing that yn had ever seen.

sitting at the table was very awkward because they were surrounded by whispers and glances.

“so wonwoo. what do you work as?” chae-young’s husband was actually a very nice man. he was always kind to yn and her brother and was the complete opposite of his distasteful wife.

“i’m a gamer. i’m currently in talks of joining [fictional korea no.1 pro gamer team]. that deal closes before june,” - wonwoo

“ah i see. what about you, yn? what are you working as now?” this question was on everyone’s mind. some with ulterior motives.

“up until thursday, i was a museum part-timer and finishing university. but i recently managed to sell many of my art pieces and have made quite a name for myself in the past three days. in case you all didn’t know, almost every artwork in this building was made by me over the last 4 years.” - yn

the room was silent. you could hear a pin drop and wonwoo couldn’t help but smile to himself.

let’s walk through the real train of events.

after the “fake-dating” agreement, wonwoo, minghao, mingyu and dokyeom had helped yn move every piece of her artworks over the years to minghao’s studio to sort through them. it took them almost 30 hours to categorise. by monday, they had organised the auction within the museum, an exhibition for her other works and an online bidding website for exclusive works. from tuesday to thursday, the auctions and exhibitions opened.

every one of yn’s artworks sold for incredibly high prices. this particular hotel that the family reunion was, had purchased a significant amount of said artworks.

“you mean you painted that painting of a phoenix?” - uncle

“i did that 2 years ago.” - yn

“and that ceramic heart? that was you?” - aunt

“yes.” - yn

wonwoo could not help but smile at yn’s nonchalent bragging. just then, a hand reached across to tap his.

“so~ wonwoo-oppa~ how did you and yn meet?" chae-young began to blatantly flirt with wonwoo while her HUSBAND sat helplessly beside her.

“i commissioned an art piece from her and fell in love at first sight.” wonwoo forcefully took back his hand before leaning closer to yn, earning a scowl from chae-young.

yn was’t exaggerating when she described all of chae-young’s antics.

here’s a list of the things she tried but failed to do. seduce wonwoo, yn’s “boyfriend”, spill water on yn, pretend that yn stepped on her foot on purpose, claim yn slapped her.

how embarrassing.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

synopsis: wonwoo is a popular streamer known for his incredible gaming skills and good looks. He turned heads. but he hates the attention. he just wants to play games and earn money. one day he receives a letter. his apartment’s rent has almost doubled. no warnings at all. his current paycheck from streaming can’t shoulder those bills. he has no choice but to rent out his spare room. to who? a fresh art university graduate who has… 1. a stable job ✅ 2. talent for art and sculpting ✅ 3. many friends ❌ 4. social anxiety ✅ 5. no filter ✅ when his iconic cat logo gets copystriked, she comes to the rescue with a new logo for him. when his apartment’s walls start peeling, she fixes it. whatever he used to struggle with… the empty space... was now filled by her. so what does he *last player standing* do when her ex *enemy spotted* tries to take her back? heh. *clutch* he clutches.

inspired by wonwoo's gam3bo1 streams, falling into your smile & gogo squid (has hints of valorant)

pairing: streamer!jeon wonwoo x fem!artist!reader (ft. jeongcheol, soonhoon, junhao, seoksoo, verkwan)

genre: fluff, comfort, slowburn, comfort, pining, bestfriend!minghao

warnings: stalker ex, toxic ex, mentions of abuse, guns (game), cursing, hate comments, panic attacks

started: 28.12.23

ended: ?

taglist: join from my masterlist

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tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester

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[alpaca-clouds]

Let me talk about Vampunk

It is punk-o-clock and... Halloween is in a couple of days. So let me talk about this one punk genre that I came up with myself: Vampunk. Because I just think there is an amazing potential in telling punk stories with vampires. Also I love my vampires. 🧛

I talked about it in the trope defining post before, but just to catch you up to speed on what I imagine this genre to be:

Vampires in fiction play a dual role.

They can be monsters and villains with the potential to stand in for all sorts of exploitation. There is a reason why we call folks, who exploit others a lot "vampires" often enough. They suck you dry and then leave you out in the sun. In a lot of fiction vampires have been made into slavers, CEOs and other people like that.

Vampires can also be a standin for the marginalized and especially queer culture has very much taken to them as a metaphor for queerness. A big factor of course is, that all the early vampires in fiction (Dracula, Carmilla and Lord Ruthven) are all queer-coded in their respective media. There also tends to be a lot of stories about vampires living in normal society and being forced to hide their existence because people would literally kill them if they knew. Hence, the vampire becomes a story about the marginalized - as well as a marginalized power fantasy.

This gives the vampire a dual nature as both the exploiter and the marginalized. And this is something that just makes for such interesting story potential.

The thing I see such a high potential in is... That this mirrors a lot of real world situations. In the real world we also tend to have this. There are a lot of marginalized folks - and then there are some of them who for one reason or another end up in a position of power. And, well, not all of them end up doing good in those positions.

So, imagine a world in which indeed some vampires are holding those positions of powers. Being CEOs or slavemasters or maybe some especially greedy kind of politician. And they exploit that situation to feed on humans all they want. To bleed them dry - literally and figuratively. And they know that even if their secret came out, the secret that they are vampires, they would probably have an easy way to escape the situation because of their power and influence.

But most vampires are not that. Most vampires are just your average Joes and Jolines trying to somehow survive. They have to be careful how to hunt to not raise any alarm among the humans, have to hide themselves. Maybe, in fact, those upper class vampires put rules on them about how much they can to feed and in what way. And being kind of bound - through blood and kinship - they are forced to somewhat deal with those powerful vampires and in their own way get exploited by them as well.

Now imagine the kind of stories you can tell about this. About how those systems work and how complicated they are. About maybe some humans realizing how they get exploited and trying to hunt down the vampires. Or about some of the exploited vampires realizing, they have more in common with the humans than with those upper echelon vampires. About rebellion in an unjust system. And about badly veiled metaphors for capitalism.

Vampires as creatures are very ripe for metaphoric storytelling. Maybe more ripe for it in fact than nearly any other mythological creature.

And I think that we could channel this through a genre like this. Make Vampunk a thing.

Or maybe that is just me?

[pamprinninja]

How it started, versus how it's going...

I grew up in the UK, 30 minutes from Games Workshop's Nottingham headquarters; and my childhood heavily featured their games, miniatures, and routine trips to the local Games Workshop store.

During this time, I developed a particular affection for the work of Jes Goodwin. Initially an artist and sculptor, Jes' work was strongly geometric in nature; and displayed an unusually high degree of consistency (a particularly noteworthy achievement during a period where miniatures were sculpted by hand with ad-hoc tools).

For reference - one of Jes' early sketches of a Space Marine in Mk. VI armor; as featured in the guide that accompanied the very first Space Marine paint set:

I actually had the pleasure of meeting Jes in person at Games Day '94; and one of my treasured possessions is the souvenir program, which he kindly autographed:

During my teenage years, I came to possess a handful of Chaos Champions sculpted by Jes. As was so often the case in those early years, the miniatures had been designed as dual use; combining the sort of medieval aesthetics that would warrant inclusion in the Warhammer Fantasy Battle setting, but also the occasional technological greeble that would justify use in Warhammer: 40,000.

As I generally kept to the latter system, I set about cutting up and remodeling these miniatures, with the aim of making the science-fiction elements more explicit. And I was very happy with the end results, too!... Which makes it all the more unfortunate that these miniatures were lost when I relocated to the US.

Two decades later, and I have taken it upon myself to recreate these miniatures (albeit with the full advantage of the skills I have developed in the interim). The first mini on the chopping block is 021919 from the 1989 Citadel Catalog (frequently referred to by its most obvious physical characteristic, "Nurgle Chaos Champion With Fly Mutation"):

(It feels vaguely sacrilegious, taking a razor saw to what is now technically an antique; but I very much subscribe to the DIY mentality that was so prevalent during the initial Rogue Trader days, and - given that the model originates for the same time period - keeping the old traditions alive seems only appropriate.)

In my original conversion, I removed the haft and blade of the axe; and positioned an old Space Ork plasma cannon over the now unobscured shoulder. I also replaced the sandaled foot and exposed fly-mutated leg with their armored equivalents from a Space Marine Devastator.

This time I around, I opted to angle the right arm, to add a greater sense of movement; and completely reposition the left arm, as if to calling out a target:

(In doing so, I created a great many headaches for myself: the right hand snapped off at the wrist, and had to be repaired. Cutting the left arm free necessitated cutting through the hand; and the pins I inserted into the remains of the palm broke free, requiring JB Weld to resecure.

I cannot underscore the frustration inherent to these two experiences; at the same time, I'm a great believer in the idea that growth as an artist demands taking risks - up to and including potentially ruining one's art.)

The original version of the conversion also featured an extended barrel (fabricated from the Lord Fuegan's firepike, and a handful of random Genestealer claws). However, I wanted to replace this with something a little more appropriate for a follower of the Lord Of Pestilence; which ended up being the better part of a Plague Spewer:

In terms of next steps: I intend to strap a canister of goo-based ammunition to his left side; and continue to add new detailing to hide the various cuts and joins.

[chaifootsteps]

I feel like this might be something that has been said before, so feel free to ignore if repetitive, but I genuinely think the problem with """anti-shippers""" (if we have to use those terms) is that THEY are the ones who can't distinguish between reality and fiction. Often times they'll treat fictional characters as if they're real-life people and deserve the same level of respect in fiction as real people should get in reality, when that's just ABSURDLY flawed logic. I think that's why they automatically think "Oh, people who ship these two characters (abusive, problematic, etc.) must believe these things are okay in real life" because they literally CANNOT FATHOM that people use fiction AS FICTION.

And I mean, like you said, there ARE creepy people in the "proship" side of it that DO ship weird stuff because like "WEL AKTCHUALLY, 14 IS CLOSE ENOUGH TO WOMANHOOD TO BE FUCKING ADULTS", which is genuinely disgusting, but it's VERY OBVIOUS that that's not the mindset of ALL "proshippers". (Again, using quotes because the pro/anti terms are basically meaningless these days)

It's like they can't comprehend the fact that other people are capable of critical thinking, and using fiction to play with concepts and shit about stuff they would NEVER do in real life, because they themselves cannot understand the difference. It's both sad and really creepy. (Also you would not BELIEVE the amount of actual, literal pedos I've seen using the "anti-ship" label to appear safe to kids, so it's like, jesus christ, stop focusing on what people do in fiction and pay attention to the red flags of how people act towards OTHER REAL PEOPLE.)

Norry situation is fucking wild too, and also a kind of perfect example of all this, lmfao.

And to be fair, some of them actually can tell the difference between fiction and reality! There's plenty of them who tell me "I don't agree with your ships, but real world actions are more important" or just quietly unfollow without telling me to kill myself. Love that.

But yeah, the amount of people who treat fictional characters like real humans -- or prioritize them over real human beings -- is terrifying. It's killing fandom, it's starting to spill over and have real life consequences, and just like you said, all it does is distract from the actual predators that hide out in both communities.

[inventedfangirling]

Hello this is basically a long post about me sorting through my feelings about bad buddy and why it means so much to me.

So over the past few weeks ( i first watched the show 7 weeks ago) ive been trying to figure out what exactly about bad buddy and patpran in particular have got me so inexplicably fond and devoted to them and apart from the usual answers of great writing, directing, performances and the best most electric chemistry and banter known to humankind, i did arrive at couple of other answers too.

First of all pat and (especially) pran are deep and well rounded characters.

Their worlds feel lived in and real.

Their feelings and thoughts and motivations are of course excellently portrayed by both ohm and nanon. and they gave representation to queer people everywhere. pat being the pan/ bi king he is and pran being the gayest babyboy warrior poet ever. pran especially given his repressed nature and emotional closed-off-ness is somebody a lot of people surely saw themselves in, including myself. seeing myself represented like that starting off the way he is and then taking small steps one by one over the course of the whole show (and over years in the show's universe) to arrive at the more assured, more open, more ready to be vulnerable (but still very much the pran we all loved in the first episode itself) was so wonderful to see.

The fact that the show happens in a non homophobic universe doesnt take away from just how special it was seeing queer characters fall, be and stay in love. and most importantly that they got their happy ending (i wont be hearing anything against this cos the ending was happy, despite the slightly bittersweet tinge of it, it was happy and there shall be no counter arguments begone i cant with that)

That episode 12 gave a glimpse of their future.

A world where pat will one day be able to sit with pran in his house eating food made by dissaya. that pran and pat's mom work on a common hobby together cos why not. a world where they no longer have to hide, a world were they could well and truly thrive.

Its so so important as queer people that we get representation and that in a world that is often cruel to the likes of us especially here in asia, that we see happy adult queer lives, where they can be in love in the most mundane of ways.

Patpran and bad buddy gave us that and i will forever be thankful for it.

That still doesn't capture exactly why i rate them as a couple so so highly in my head.

So i thought of patpran in the context of all the other love stories i could possibly remember watching. i thought of some of my top favourite couples - mondler, phil & claire, schmidt & cece, peraltiago, leslie & ben, jack & rebecca, randall & beth, simon & wilhelm, jaeyong & sangwoo, ji hyun & jaewon, bai lang & xun an, tara & darcy, sumi & rimjhim and so so many more and what stood out for me when it came to patpran was that they were the one couple out of all these couples i adore who didnt let anything get between them once they got together.

Every other couple among the ones ive listed have had jobs or other relationships or distance or parents or workplace rules /etiquette or circumstances or the royalty standing in between their love and as a result causing the couple to break apart ( a couple of episodes for mondler to seasons of confusion for peraltiago and schmidt & cece etc) even if briefly.

Except for phil & claire (who btw wasnt even sure about marrying phil when she did) almost none of these couples got together and stayed together throughout their relationship. and yes i agree that a lot of these obstacles and circumstances are very real and taxing and no wonder people chose their own peace at least for a while to deal with everything BUT i just cant help feel more appreciative of pat pran even more cos these two 19 year olds figured this whole thing out faster than any of those full grown adults did.

And yes its fictional and maybe even unrealistic (given the kind of relationships i see irl) yet patpran really do deserve all the love they get. they do deserve a lot of props.

Its not like they didn't have adverse obstacles standing in their way, they had to fight against their families years and years of lies and all the intergenerational trauma and their faculty rivalry and a shitty friend who outed them and any single one of these should have caused at least 12 episodes worth of conflict and miscommunication in any other couple.

And yes i do recognise that bbs didnt have the luxury of time or multiple seasons but they could have kept them apart for a whole episode at least, i was convinced we were in for that at the end of episode 8 as the aftermath of wai outing them. like there is no way the relationship comes out of it unscathed ( i thought! ). and while im sure they personally were rattled and betrayed (pran more so), instead of blaming anybody else or each other they actually chose to handle it together, they worked together and chose to move forward together.

The fact that such a terrible experience instead of breaking them apart actually reaffirmed to both pat and pran just how much their relationship means to the both of them, that they come out of it actually stronger??

i was friggin shook to my core.

And then came the gunshots and the family finding out and the running away and the coming back and the fake breakup and the pressures of all of this should have been enough to drive a serious wedge between any two characters, especially at their age and lack of experience. and yet??? and yet at each obstacle they get up, they draw the other closer and they get down to working on it together again.

Over and over and over and over again.

So for me what separates patpran from everybody else is the fact that ever since they got together, they have chosen eo, intentionally, that has made the difference.

Pat and pran's story may have been destined ( i personally don't know if i believe in destiny). they may have been born neighbours and felt unexplainable intense feelings (that later turned to love) for the other but when it came down to it, at its core, bad buddy soars when the two come together and they choose to keep being together, despite everything that stands in their way.

Love is a choice. love is a sacrifice. but its also a sacrifice and a choice they made for themselves and for each other and above all for their relationship.

Almost all the couples mentioned above arrive at similar destinations but they arrive at it with years of experience and years of struggle. i just cant help marvel at our teenagers who did love better than whole ass adults double their age could.

And more importantly above the awe i feel inspired and hopeful because they showed me that there's always a choice. thats there's always another option. you dont need to get out of your comfort zone. but you also dont need to be in the comfort zone always. you dont need to keep lying to yourself. you dont need to hide every single part of you. there are always other options. there is always a choice.

That hope is not just a noun its also very much a verb. That you and i and each one of us can make that choice.

That if ever i choose to partner up with someone and if we do proper healthy communication (patpran invented healthy communication and consent btw, they deserve EVERYTHING for just that but thats a whole other post) prioritizing the relationship where it mattered, i too could have something ( even remotely) like their love.

For the first time in my life probably i felt like that kind of love was attainable for me if i wanted to pursue it. They gave me hope. and they gave me joy. and i will never not be unbelievably grateful for it.

[mushroomstimboards]

As someone who is autistic/ADHD I have some things I would like to share with people who think that autism or ADHD is just like in movies or tv shows because it's not always the same.

For example yes I do stim and when I do it's mostly because I get excited. I have habit of clapping my hands when I stim and it's usually my excited clapping because that's the way I know that something made me happy and I love it.

Second is when I'm overstimulated I shut myself down. I stop talking for few hours and I don't see anything wrong with this because I don't want to talk to anyone at the moment because everything is too much and I hate everything. I want to hide under my blanket and never come out until I feel better.

Another thing is my special interest. I have lots of them:

Dinosaurs

Dungeons and dragons

Sea life

Moths

Halloween

Horror movies

Aliens

Crime/conspiracy theories

Vampires

Fantasy

Collecting stuff

Fashion

Music

Animals

Learning about psychology

Exploring world

Gravity Falls

Tim Burton movies

Autumn

Doctor who

Star Trek

Dr house

So yeah a lot of things and I often hear that I don't have any interests but it's not true because I often have trouble choosing just one. I often get bored with one and I find something new and then I go back to the old one.

I also enjoy squishy toys. I love them for no reason just find them nice.

Having comfort characters is very important because I need to know that I can relate to someone even if this person is fictional. For example Jack skellington. I got attached to him when I was 10 years old and it's just stayed with me. I also love Ash from evil dead. He's a cool guy.

For many people saying that horror movies bring me comfort is weird but I don't watch them for gore or violence but because only when I watch my favorite horror movie I feel like I'm in my comfort zone. For example I love evil dead because there's cool plot and my favorite characters. It feels nice.

I don't really have comfort food but if I could choose something I would say sushi and grilled cheese sandwich. It's not often that I eat something from my comfort food zone because I can't choose. I just know that I love sweets. I could eat marshmallows all day long until I threw up.

I have comfort clothes I love. My red turtleneck and my bell bottoms. That's why I love autumn.

If I hear someone saying that I don't look autistic I think I look stupid because how exactly I'm supposed to look to fit into autistic look. I look like normal person but sometimes I feel like I'm alien. Just because someone doesn't look autistic doesn't mean they are not autistic.

When it comes to loud noises I'm not fan of them. I have to wear my headphones so my head doesn't explode from amount of loud and annoying sounds I hear every day.

Sensory issues are also very important to me because I absolutely hate tags on my clothes or rubber things. I do enjoy nice soft blanket or warm sweater.

I think that's all for now but you can ask questions if you want. Bye ☺

[wetcatspellcaster]

Writer Interview Game

thank you so much for tagging me @eraserspiral !!!!

When did you start writing?

I wrote a lot of 'original fiction' as a teen, including a couple of TERRIBLE novels, that were essentially just a grab bag of all the books i was reading at the time. School (and in hindsight, grief) stopped this around 16-18, and then a very high pressure degree at a high profile university seemingly killed off my love of writing entirely.

I got back into writing at 26... weirdly?? just before the panini?? (january 2020, did past-me feel something in the water and know i'd need to hold onto any crumb of serotonin for dear life??) I had just finished my PhD applications, and after sinking so many hours and so many words into the most joy sucking series of forms I've ever encountered, I decided I wanted to write something fun for a change!

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I don't write smut. I read a LOT of smut.

But in terms of themes, I tend to write in worlds/fantasy settings where we can all pretend that capitalism doesn't exist, or that if it does exist, the protagonist is winning at it. I really like speculative fiction (sf and fantasy) that tackles capitalistic themes/poverty well - this has been on my mind recently bc of an arc in a D&D game I've been playing, where my wonderful DM has essentially gone 'capitalism bad' but then let us do something about it <3

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I find it hard to know what my writing 'is like'... not bc it's wildly unique or anything, but just bc I don't think I can see my own influences that clearly (if anyone wants to drop me some comparisons in the askbox, go for it, I'm curious!)

But in terms of writers I want to emulate, at the chatty/colloquial end it's T Kingfisher and Sarah Rees Brennan, who have a good handle on when to hit emotionally or on high fantasy register, and then when to have really grounded/human moments that make their characters incredibly relatable (and often very funny). At the high fantasy end, it's Shannon Chakraborty, Ann Leckie, Nghi Vo, Silvia Moreno Garcia. They write haunting and engaging narratives!

And, of course, I'm always trying to muster an ounce of whatever the fuck Howl/Sophie had going on.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I use my desk for work/thesis and want to exclusively keep it that way, so my writing space is actually just on the corner of the sofa in my living room, with my legs crossed, a blanket, and a cup of tea. No music, pure autistic silence (but also bc my laptop speaker is broken). Scotland gets dark for a long time in the winter, so it's usually pretty cosy vibes. It's probably not good for me, as I get a LOT of leg cramp.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Honestly, not to be tsundere about it... but maybe ignore the muse a little? If you've burned out or you're trying to brute force a scene, all you're doing is guilting yourself into being productive. With fic writing, especially, you should be doing it to have fun, not bc you feel like you have to. So if the words aren't coming, do other things for a bit. Go on a day trip, hang out with friends, do chores or read something. In my experience, my brain doesn't stay quiet for long, and ideas for my current project will come to me when i'm not trying to squeeze them out of myself like toothpaste.

Sometimes the well runs dry! Rather than feel terrible about it, be kind to yourself, and wait for rain x

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Hahahahaha, let's not talk about how I keep placing people into the worst versions of themselves and then have them improve and earn love anyway, regardless of if they deserve it. Or how I'm interested in characters who feel a wealth of emotion they hide from everyone behind a mask of either performed indifference, wilful charm, or simply bc they can't articulate it in the socially correct way. Or women who think 'if I cannot be beautiful or loveable, I will be competent', and the men who-

Anyway, introvert x extrovert pairings, amirite? Everything else is shown to me in a vision (my therapist reaches a dead end in my session as I insist nothing is wrong, asks me about my fanfic, and then delivers me a laundry list of the stuff I'm currently coping with. Lowest point: being told im IDing through the fucking DARKLING, on one project. That man is a war criminal, and I dont look like Ben Barnes).

What is your reason for writing?

In the beginning, I think it was pure comfort. I'd just come out of a period of extreme depression, and wanted to hallucinate some characters in love.

But recently, and going forward, I think it is a genuine exercise in proficiency. I thought my writing was so terrible that I said 'I couldn't write', for so fucking long. I now genuinely think this is something I'm good at, and that is something it has taken me so very long to believe, and even longer to say. I am a very self-deprecating person. I have so few things I feel good at, or that I think bring something worthwhile to the table. As academia delivers me blow after blow and the world leaves me feeling worthless, I am going to cling to this until my hands bleed.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

focusing on the 'motivation' part of this question... I think the comments that happen to land on the one specific thing that matters to me, those are the ones that hit hardest. It happens rarer than you'd think. part of the joy of fanfiction comments is the wealth of different reader interpretations, with people seeing things in your own work that you've never noticed. All interpretations are amazing, especially the ones that show you a blindspot you never considered. But when a reader hits the nail fucking on the head (gets a 'gold star in reading comprehension'), that's the most motivating, and makes me want to open my document and write the next chapter. Because I know then that at least one person out there 'gets it', and is fully on board with the story I want to tell.

But that is a very selfish, specific feeling. All comments are motivation, and all reader interpretations have value!

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Idk if this seems weird or a disingenuous answer but... as a person?? Writing a story for fun? Pieces was a very cool and special experience, but it was very unexpected. I wasn't and never considered myself to be a 'big name fan'. I never want to enter any kind of popularity contest, and I never want to be beholden to people who are reading a story I am writing for fun. Very funny to have a story blow up when you have weird feelings about attention lmfao. Like don't get me wrong, absolutely amazing to ride such a huge tide of support, but this was meant to be my silly introvert hobby :')

I also hope they think my writing is good!! obviously!! i know it can't be everything everyone wants all the time, but you know!! i think it's neat!! I hope y'all think it's neat!! plz and thank!!!

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

lmao eraserspiral's reply to this question was a fucking mood. (just deleted it in my template to make space).

I guess... I know how to flesh out a character, and a character voice. I think I can establish a character's personality, their strengths and their flaws, and have them consistently become the vehicle for both progression and some very real, understandable mistakes. I think chapters from different perspectives feel distinct, and that when development in either direction (bad or good) happens, it feels earned.

idk man, this is a hard one to answer when depressed :')

How do you feel about your own writing?

At the end of the day, it's a lifeline. Sometimes I keep very much to myself and I protect it fiercely, because it's one of the only things that kept me going at certain points in the last few years. At my lowest, I've often wondered for what, if anything, I'll be remembered for or what I'll leave behind... and now I actually have things! 12 whole stories, where once there was nothing! Sure, it's fanfic! But some people's favourite fanfic. None of it is perfect, but it all matters to me, and we're now at the point (4 years in) where I am starting to slowly realise how it has changed me as a person, and will continue to change me going forward.

I want to start on some original ideas once my thesis is over, vivaed and done, but I don't currently see my writing as anything something I can make into a career, bc I need to keep the joy in it as the joy literally keeps me alive :')

tagging: @imscissorbladez, @pricemarshfield, @blarfshnorgull, @violacae, @dededrabbles, @brabblesblog - no pressure, just trying to share this tag game to more groups/social circles! :) x

[obsoleteozymandias]

hello!! i'd like to request a twisted wonderland matchup if ur still doing them! if not that's totally cool :) feel free to ignore this!!

here's my info!!

i use any pronouns and i'm aroace irl, but i still like fictional characters LOL. my mbti is intp, and my "big three" zodiacs are pisces sun, aries moon, and sagittarius rising.

personality: for how i'd describe myself, i'd definitely say i try my best to be optimistic about things. whenever i ask people if my personality is the sun or the moon, they usually say i'm the sun LOL. i've been told that i have a relaxing voice and that i have a comforting presence. from my perspective, i'm decently quiet and shy and i get pretty nervous talking to new people irl, but once the conversation gets going, i can talk to anyone just fine. i tend to be agreeable, and i think i'm pretty easy to talk to. my friends say i'm a sweet person , but that i also seem to get lost in my thoughts a lot or daydream often. i've also been told by many people that i'm pretty funny, and my humor tends to rely on a mix of my vocabulary and the latest trends. i'm playful and silly by nature, often teasing my friends and goofing around, but i'm also capable of providing genuine advice and comfort to people if they need me to. i like a lot of playful banter in my life. i've also been told that i'm trustworthy and reliable whenever i work with other people. additionally, i'm more detail-oriented, mainly because i like to go in-depth and consider things with logic if i can. but, at the same time, i can be a bit impatient and impulsive if i really want something, but not so much that i do anything too reckless, if that makes sense LOL.

likes: psychology (so much so that i want to pursue a career in it), astrology, history, playing video games (mainly roblox, cookie run kingdom, the persona series, and twst), sweet stuff and candy, watching the sunrise, sleeping / taking naps, cats, listening to music

dislikes: bugs (i'm terrified of them ☹️ just the thought of touching them makes me shudder with fear), dirty rooms, injustice, canned green beans (i gagged last time i ate them 😭), singing in front of other people, dancing (only bcuz i'm really bad at it and it's embarrassing, LOL), overly arrogant people or people who think they're "above" me

hobbies: i spend a lot of my free time on my phone and in my room. i don't go to new places often, but i love to play games with my friends and chat on the phone. occasionally, i'll try out a new makeup look that i find online since i'm somewhat into beauty stuff. i usually spend a couple hours a day on tiktok (my attention span is cooked 🙁), but lately i've been trying to get back into drawing or painting!! i want to utilize a bit more of my creativity instead of just sitting around all day LOL. additionally, i'm a bit of a clean freak, so if a room in my house is getting a bit dusty, i'll dedicate a few hours to cleaning it up and reorganizing.

extra: im super sorry if this ended up being rlly long 😭 tysm for ur time!!

Extra info means extra points to write about no need to apologize!

== Twisted Wonderland ==>

I match you up with…

Rook Hunt

Pre-relationship:

Rook sees your inner beauty, as he does with most people, right away. The instant he meets you he’s going on about how lovely you look, and how your shyness hides away a vivid personality. 

How does he know these things? Pure instinct. But it’s a refined and usually correct instinct, so make of that what you will. 

He flutters around you day in and day out, asking you questions and testing you reactions to anything and everything. He’s a bit overwhelming at first, but once you really get to know him, he’s a reliable friend and always there to pick you up when you’re feeling down. 

He’s also taken by your interest in psychology. He himself is very observant and notices quite a lot about others that they don’t even know, and so the study of how the mind works fasniates him. If you tell him a factoid or two about psychology, and how you think it applies to one of your classmates or peers, he’ll be thrilled and praise you for your intelligence. 

Once you get close, he’ll often bring out the playful and silly side of you, absolutely taken with your smile and the sound of your laughter. Perhaps it’s then when he realizes that he’s fallen for you.

Confession: 

Rook is a romantic, sure, but he’s also knowledgable about your tastes and preferences. If you’d want a beautiful confession by moonlight, him singing a ballad beneath your window, then you’d get that. If you’d want a small and intimate confession, him gazing into your eyes lovingly, you’d get that. Whatever it was, two things would be certain: it would be terribly romantic, and it would be perfect. 

Relationship:

Whatever hobbies you have, Rook will absolutely be a part of them now. You want to draw? He’ll be your model, or watch you as you create! Playing video games? He’ll be your player 2! Whatever it is, he enjoys it, so long as he gets to be by your side. 

He hides his emotions fairly well from others around him, but when he’s around you, he tends to let you in on some of the smaller or more negative things he feels. It’s here that he appreciates the part of you that gives good advice. 

In turn, he’s always a willing confidant, and absolutely will tell you if you need to take a break from being the school’s therapist. 

He won’t just tell you: he’ll scoop you up and run away with you if needed, laughing like a madman and cuddling you so you wouldn’t be able to escape.

One thing is certain: whatever challenges or trials you face in life, Rook will be there to help you through them. 

[hellonerf]

How do you do it you post incest openly and wont get cancelled? Tell me your secret

i feel insane from these asks but i'll try to answer this one cz i do find it interesting. 🙂idk lol i think when i made this blog i was already drawing kinda weird shit so when i started to post caname alot nobody cared like that. and i post it really often it just wards off people who rly dont like it even before interaction 😅maybe its cz its hetalia and nobody cares enough for it to be a big deal, or maybe its a ticking timebomb thing and one of these days im gna get a callout with my other usernames in it 🤤(plan to break my own limbs myself). tho "cancellation" only really comes from a twist of fate imo... if people already know i post caname all the time they dont really have anything to call me out on 😭 theres nothing to be "cancelled" there because people who follow me already know what i post 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️ final answer is its hetalia

actually people on my main art shit might make a big deal. but they might not 🤷‍♂️ theres honestly more of a mix of opinions in fiction stuff than you'd expect? especially if they dont label it, its all different to people its all case by case. and people tire of callouts especially when the most immature and clumsy people keep making them lol 🤤 i dont rly bother to hide the connection between my hetalia pages and my main(even posted it there sometimes) so whatever. im forcing myself to care less and less atp so it'll be better for me in the long run, and i dont want people who are eager to assume things about me as a person to be around my shit 😢☺️👍you can view my shit but its MY shit you know